The Curse
by kainsley
Summary: Two years after the Deep Roads Hawke and Fenris have began to drift apart. But when something horrible happens in a magic shop Fenris must fight to keep himself away from her - and Hawke away from Anders. rated M! F!HawkeXFenris!
1. Magic Dust

**Chapter 1**

**Magic Dust**

His monocle shook as he put it to his eye.

"You can do it?" asked the dark woman standing before him. Her aura reeked with malice and evil; even his cheerful campfire seemed to dim in her presence.

"Well… it's a-a very difficult ritual," he stuttered out. "Not many people require magic this potent. I will need some very rare components, and it will be very, very expensi-"

He wasn't even able to finish his sentence before the woman dropped a bag on the ground before him. Diamonds spilled out, twinkling in the fire's low light. "There will be more – much more – when it's done. The Templars and Chantry will excuse your little magic shop, and it will thrive if you're smart about it. My master will be pleased that you have done this for him in his absence, and will make sure your meager dreams are aptly fulfilled."

Halbert's face fell, his usually kind eyes becoming stony as he realized there would be no denying this woman.

"I see you understand. Good. All of the supplies you need will be delivered once you reach Kirkwall. I will be outside the city awaiting its completion. Send word when it is done."

She left him then, followed by her shadowy soldiers, as he stood by his little campfire holding the slip of paper. A slip of paper that damned a free man to chains if he filled the order – but Halbert to death if he didn't.

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><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

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><p>Fenris watched Hawke move in front of him through the Hightown crowds. The midday sun was warm on his skin and calmed a bit of his nervousness from the pressing crowds. Servants and noblewomen were still wandering the markets' shops, their high little Orleisian shoes clicking on the cobblestones as they worried themselves over what scents and flowers to buy.<p>

But Hawke cast a far fairer image than any of the done up noble women prancing about in their tight corsets and dresses. She didn't need unnatural powders to pale her skin, blushes to rosy her cheeks, or tints to redden her full, pouted lips. And her hips didn't need any tight contraption of whale bone and ribbons to flair pleasingly.

Fenris shifted, uncomfortable with where his thoughts had taken him.

It had been two years since the deep roads, and things hadn't changed much in Kirkwall. The mages and Templars were still at each others' throats and the Qunari showed no signs of leaving.

Life had changed drastically for Hawke and her companions, though. The Deep Roads had offered up unbelievable treasures, but it had also taken away things more valuable than any amount of gold. Hawke had lost her sister; Varric his brother. The two had lost parts of themselves in that darkness that could never be reclaimed, and Fenris knew that while they may have moved on from the grief, the wounds still festered.

But despite the loss they'd all gained something, too. A deep bond that hadn't existed before and whatever doubts Fenris had had about trusting Hawke had been lost in those tunnels. Somewhere in those winding halls of stone something had clicked into place within him. As they'd fought to survive that darkness a deep and desperate need to keep her safe had risen and the feeling had only become more intense once they'd reached the surface.

Things had gotten complicated with this new development. It was more than just trust that had grown. He'd become used to her company; there was hardly a job that he'd not gone on, and he was happy by her side. She was strong and bold, and intelligent. But she possessed a kindness, too, that Fenris had never experienced. Her light smiles and warm eyes fulfilled something he hadn't known had been missing from his life.

He'd become attached to the young woman, and now instead of wondering if he should leave the city, he wondered if he _could_.

Their escalating closeness terrified the wary elf.

So over the past couple of months he'd been trying to wean himself of her addictive company. He'd accepted fewer jobs, and didn't go to the Hanged Man as much. She'd started leaving the city this past year, venturing out farther and for longer periods of time. Before he had enjoyed the trips, but recently he'd stopped going with her, trying desperately to distance himself. But the harder he tried to ignore her, the harder it got to keep her out of his thoughts, and his plan to rid himself of his confusion only made it worse. It was very distressing.

Hawke was similarly confused. Now that they were settled into their family estate, her mother had been pushing for things Marian didn't really want to think about. Like marriage. She was the last of the Amell line capable of child bearing, and her mother wasted no breathe on letting her know just how much she wanted grandchildren. But no matter how many eligible and handsome suitors were invited to dinner, Hawke refused them all. Her mother was furious with her daughter's snubbing, and the two couldn't have a dinner without an argument for dessert.

So Hawke tried to avoid it. She took as many jobs as she could find, and spent as much time as possible outside the city. Often she'd stay out for weeks, sometimes travelling to other City-states and towns. The journeys satisfied her thirst for adventure, it was calming to be with her friends – and to get away from her mother's pestering.

Lately, though, her travels had lacked the sense of fulfillment she was used to. And she had a firm belief it had to do with the elf stalking behind her.

Despite his cold demeanor and hatred of all things magic, he'd become a very valued friend. When Bethany had died in the deep roads Varric had offered his support, but Fenris had been the one to carry them all past that tragedy, pushing them forward and out of that dark hell; he was the reason they were still alive. His voice was always one of reason, he never strayed from the course he knew was right, and over the past year he'd been a staple during her journeying. He'd become her rock.

She had a sneaking suspicion that he could be much more, too. He was still quiet most of the time, but his scowls held none of their previous animosity. Occasionally she'd catch a tenderness in his gaze that surprised her. Those looks thrilled her more than any of the frivolous, incessant flattery from her numerous suitors and Hawke had found herself tentatively hoping that something would come of the surprisingly heated looks.

But as soon as they'd appeared, Fenris had disappeared. To Marian it was a sure sign that he had no want to pursue anything, so she hadn't pressed the matter, despite the utter disappointment. But lately he'd become more and more distant, and while Hawke could give up on the idea of any romance, she would not give up his friendship.

So she'd decided to do something drastic that was sure to get his attention.

She'd invited Anders and Merril to go to the new Trinkets Imporium that had opened in Hightown.

The store promised wonders of all shapes, sizes, and excitement; all of them precious – and all of them magical. And while she was no mage, Hawke was eager to see what that promise meant.

Fenris was not.

But there was no way Fenris was about to leave Hawke alone with the two mages in a store where they could find horrors unheard of…she shouldn't be alone with the abomination at all as far as he was concerned.

And Hawke _knew_ it.

Her smug little grin in the face of his horrified scowl when she'd shown up at his mansion this morning proved it. And while he was furious with her little manipulation, his anger could not hold up in the face of her joy when he'd accepted. Even if he wouldn't admit it, her absence had been hard on him, and he was disappointed that she would feel the need to trick him into spending time with her.

And that she would want that time to be spent in a magic shop. And with mages.

It wasn't what he'd been expecting after she'd returned from her latest outing, and he felt foolish for his hopes of...something other than this.

It made no sense to Fenris. Kirkwall was a city that feared mages and magic. He didn't understand how a shop like this could function outside the gallows and outside Templar control. But it was doing more than just functioning. It was flourishing. Its magical little trinkets and special perfumes and potions were the talk of the town.

Fenris found that very, very suspicious.

But as they wove their way through the Hightown crowds it was clear none of the others shared his trepidations. Merril chatted incessantly, wondering aloud if she'd find any lost artifacts of ancient Elvin culture. Anders walked too close to Hawke. And Hawke was…smiling.

Fenris felt an inexplicable sinking feeling as he watched her turn her warmth to the abomination. Anders had not accompanied her on her last journey either, and apparently the distance had only made her grow fonder of the mage. While she and Fenris had drifted.

He tried to ignore it, but the realization dampened his already dour mood.

The sight of the shop soured him even more. This was not what he'd been hoping for when Hawke returned from this last trip. It had been the second one he'd not gone on, and long, but he'd awaited her return eagerly. He wasn't sure what he'd hoped for over the past couple of weeks, but it definitely was _not_ this.

The high pitched bell that jangled when they opened the door had him gritting his teeth. The sight inside had him grinding them.

There could be no doubt that this was a magic shop. Things glowed, things floated, and things made little funny noises when you passed them. And while Fenris hated every second of it, the others loved it. Merril went through everything with the speed and tact of a hurricane. Hawke was more reserved, sniffing at incense and herbs. Anders was eyeing the potions.

Love potions.

Fenris cast his coldest glare at the hated abomination, who ignored him completely as he read the different effects quietly under his breath. But Fenris heard every word and his ears burned – whether from anger or embarrassment he wasn't sure. That mage would not be walking out of that shop with _anything_!

There were few customers this time of day, and it wasn't long before they were the only ones left.

As the little bell rang behind the last customer, the owner of the shop stepped out from behind the counter. It was clear from the mark on his forehead he was tranquil, lacking the quick temperament and free mind which made mages so dangers. While he trusted tranquil mages slightly more than free-willed ones, Fenris was not comfortable when the man stepped up to Hawke, his eyes blank and staring. The elf quietly went to her side, full of suspicions.

"Hello, Serah," greeted the man. "Are you enjoying the shop this evening?" His voice lacked any definable accent, and was even and calm. A curious Anders and Merril joined them, eager to meet the bold man willing to run a magic shop in Kirkwall, but as soon as Anders saw the mark of tranquility his expression darkened.

He shook his head, his handsome face full of regret. "Tranquil…" he whispered morosely.

There was a pause, but Fenris noted the shop keep's gaze was not so blank anymore, but sharp and intense. "Apostates?" the man gasped. He pulled a thick monocle out of a hidden pocket and eyed Ander's and Merril's staffs. He laughed; it was a jovial sound, rich and deep - and distinctly Orleasian. The hairs on the back of Fenris's neck stood on end. "I am most certainly not tranquil!" He took his sleeve, then, and to Fenris's utter horror, scrubbed the mark from his forehead. "I just say I am to fool those damned Templars." He laughed again.

Ander's brightened immensely. The not-so-tranquil mage clasped wrists with him excitedly. "I haven't seen many other mages able to stay out of this city's damnable circle. I was hoping I'd find some, though. It's why I set up shop, you see." Ander's smile only got wider and wider. Fenris's scowl darkened dangerously.

"My name is Halbert. It's a pleasure to meet all of you, truly!" The shop keep moved on to Merril - who didn't look like she understood exactly what was going on – and shook her hand vigorously. When he moved to Hawke however, his hand did not reach the lovely woman's.

Fenris grabbed the man's arm tightly, his expression tense and full of barely contained hatred. Wide eyes ran over intricate markings and the man's smile dropped into a tight frown. But while the mage was obviously taken aback with the warrior's appearance, his reaction was not the shocked horror Fenris usually received. Something was wrong. The elf tightened his grip painfully on the man, glaring at him dangerously, ready and willing to rip those too-probing eyes out.

He loosed him with the shock of pressure of Hawke gently reaching for his gauntlet.

But despite the release the shop keep still stared at the elf. His laugh-lined face was stony and bleak, and Fenris suspected this mage somehow knew more than he should.

Ander's broke the man's study, "You said you set this shop up for Apostates?"

As quickly as he'd dimmed the man brightened again. "Oh, yes! Every mage on the run needs a bit of help. I came here to offer it, and the goods to help keep them free." Though he was speaking to Anders his eyes kept shooting nervously to Fenris.

"For a price, I suppose?" said Hawke dryly. Her lack of wariness sat uneasily with Fenris and he shot her an angry look.

The man nodded gravely, "Just a low one, though. I only ask as much as it costs to get whatever it is they need. The foolish trinkets the nobles buy cover my profits. I keep the much more interesting and useful items in the back. Some are too dangerous for the templars to catch me with." He wiggled his thick eyebrows conspiratorially at Anders, "Would you like to see them?"

Fenris' answer was a resounding "no".

But no one agreed with the angry elf.

The middle-aged man led them through a locked back door into a little storage room filled with large shelves packed with marked trinkets. He looked to each of them excitedly, his eyes full of mischief. He tapped a few bricks in a quick and precise order and a clicking echoed from behind them. A deep grating sound began, and one of the great shelves slid away.

_A secret door. Wonderful, _Fenris thought dryly as he watched the man descend, leading Anders and Merril down into darkness. Fenris did not want to go into that hole. He did not like being around crazy apostates. He did not like following them into dark basements. But Hawke followed the others down into it, and he would not abandon her to whatever foul underworld waited. So he shifted the comforting weight of his sword and with a deep breath stepped into the stairwell.

They followed the man closely, getting a little tour of all his secret merchandise and for once other people were just as excited as Merril was regularly – and she was doubly so. The ecstatic elf couldn't keep her hands to herself, running them along the textured and runed staffs, feeling the velvety robes that would make even Isabela jealous of their flattering slits and plunging necklines. She was in heaven.

Fenris was in hell.

Wands lined the wall, dusty tomes that contained knowledge no man should see were stacked by the hundreds on looming shelves. The basement even had a table completely equipped for making potions and distilling lyrium. The elf couldn't withstand the involuntary shiver that snuck up his spine as he eyed the man's tools; hating being so near to things he'd known so well under Danarius.

He did not trust this place.

He did not trust mages.

And there were far too many of them packed into this hidden basement. Focusing on Hawke, he was angry to see her sticking near to the abomination's side. Stuck behind the excited and exceedingly distracted Merril, he could do nothing but grind his teeth and watch the others move ahead without him.

"Witch," he spat. "Move."

"O. One moment," said Merril breathlessly, stretching up on her toes to try and reach a glowing orb.

With narrow eyes he watched the cramped spaces push Hawke and Anders closer together. "Witch," he said more forcefully, willing her to get out of his way. Fenris knew Hawke didn't mind mages' company – their current situation more than enough proof if he'd ever harbored any doubt – but this place reeked of magic and mischief. And there was only so much Fenris could handle. He clenched his fist as she laughed at something the deranged shop keep said. But when Anders snuck his arm about her waist, tucking the woman into his side, Fenris's anger erupted.

"Move!" he snapped at Merril, risking putting his gloved hands on the female to try and coax her aside. But even his gentlest of touches overbalanced her precarious tip-toed position as she eyed things on high shelves. She tried to catch her balance, grasping desperately for an ancient feathered cloak, but with a loud rip of fabric she tipped, and before Fenris could grab her she crashed into a shelf. Toppling over it caved in on the two as varies expensive and rare merchandise fell about them in a downpour of shattering glass and heavy tomes.

The others turned back when they heard the crash, and were witness to a cloud of powders and feathers and torn pages.

Hawke rushed back to the fallen elves as both Anders and Halbert gave a horrified cry at the destruction.

Potions were spilled about them, staining ancient texts, and making the floor a field of broken glass. Broken jars were scoured around Merril, and the poor elf sat on the verge of tears in the middle of a lake of spilt potions, draped in a ripped robe with feathers in her hair.

Whispering condolences as she swept broken glass aside and helped her pluck the feathers from her hair, Hawke desperately tried to keep the rising water in her wide eyes at bay.

A coughing Fenris rose from the pile, covered in a white chalky dust. He looked like a powdered stage performer with his white hair and chalky skin, and Hawke was hard pressed not to laugh. He tried to scrub the mystery powder from his face, but it was in his eyes and covered his skin, and his hands only spread it around more. "Here," Hawke said as she pulled her hair tie out, handing the small scarf to him so he could clear his eyes.

He shot her a grateful look when the powder was rubbed away, blinking rapidly and coughing dryly. She smiled back as she began pushing books and broken glass away from the two. But her smile fell when she felt a great malice rise behind her.

It was a very angry Anders. "What have you done?" he glared at Merril, and his words bit.

She shook her head, wide eyed at the man's rage. "I-I didn't…"

"Yes you did!" he cried,

"Calm down, Anders," hawke said, angry at his harshness. "It's not her f-"

"Out," It was a quiet whisper, but loud enough in its anguish to effectively silence them. The shop keep stood where they'd left him; his head bowed. The utter disappointment and distress echoed off the man in palpable grief. "Out," he whispered again, his clenched fists shaking, "Get out." Anders was quick to gather the companions, helping Merril to her feet and shooting Fenris icy glares as he shooed the elves out.

As the others ascended the stairs Hawke hesitated, looking back at the man who was silent and still. A cough echoed down the passage. "I'm so sorry," she said softly, then turned and ran after her firends.

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><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

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><p>She blinked in the noon sunlight when she got outside, the glare sharp compared to the quiet glow of the trinkets inside the store.<p>

Merril was still on the verge of tears, apologizing to an angry Anders who towered over the small woman.

Fenris stood apart from the two, still trying to scrub the powder away, cursing under his breath as he became more and more desperate. The damned stuff was everywhere! In his eyes and ears, and glittering on his jerkin and breastplate. It'd even snuck its way under his armor, caking up in the creases, clinging to him in a thin dusting that wouldn't come off.

Hawke went to his side, tentatively reaching for him but he spun on her, his eyes flashing. "I knew this would happen!" he yelled at her, and her sad eyes only made the day seem more like a betrayal to him. He shook his head violently, "You are too eager – too stupid – to know to stay away from magic. But why do you bring me into it?" His words stung, and her hands fell back to her sides, no longer so eager to help. People started to stop to watch the scene.

"It's not her fault!" Anders came to Hawke's side resting his hand on the small of her back. Back suddenly going rigid, Fenris's eyes sparked even more when he saw the mage's boldness. "Merril's saying you pushed her," the man accused, narrowing his eyes.

Merril scooted over, sniffling. "Well he didn't really push." She said softly. "He just startled me. I think he was just angry because I was taking too long, looking around and snooping when I shouldn't have. I don't have very good balance anyways - I fall over all the time - and I'm sure he didn't know. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to ruin everything!" she rambled, still trying valiantly to keep herself from falling apart.

"Hush, now. It's alright Merril." Hawke said. She shot a stern look at Anders. "_No one_ is at fault. It was an _accident_. It's no worse than breaking fine china." She joked, hoping to make light of the situation. It didn't help Merril much.

The elf grew even more frantic. "Oh! That's horrible! Far worse than I thought!"

Hawke gave a small sigh. Fenris coughed again.

She eyed him closely. The powder was everywhere, dusting his skin and armor, caked on his lips and clinging to his eyelashes. "Anders, do you know what that stuff is?"

Leaning forward, the man brought his inspection closer to Fenris who backed up uncooperatively, shooting the mage an annoyed look. Anders sighed, "No. You should come to the clinic and wash, though."

Fenris looked horrified at that prospect. "I'll go nowhere with you, abomination." He hissed.

"If there are any symptoms, you should be at the clinic so I can treat them," Anders said, trying to keep his teeth from clenching in irritation. He wouldn't even invite the blighted elf if it weren't for Hawke's worry. But despite his restrained tones, none of the danger left the warrior's flashing green eyes.

Hawke shook her head at his stubbornness. "Anders is right, Fenris. The shopkeep said the merchandise down there was dangerous. And I doubt he'd be willing to help us out now."

"Dangerous? You mean… I might've killed Fenris!" Merril shrieked aghast, her hands flying to her mouth.

"No! No, Merril. He'll be fine."Hawke soothed, grabbing the hysterical elf's hands and patting her gently, trying to calm her down. A crowd had gathered by now, eyeing the four curiously. "We should really go." She gave Fenris a loaded and pleading look. "Come on, Merril, you and I will go to Ander's clinic too, and make sure Fenris is just fine, alright?"

And as much as he hated it, Fenris gave in to Hawke's abstract demand. He heaved a sigh - his eyes still all fire - but turned and trudged off towards the clinic as another caugh ripped through him.

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><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

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><p>But Anders wasn't able to tell him anything there either.<p>

It didn't help that Fenris wouldn't let anyone close enough to get a sample of the stuff. He was still raging, and wanted no one near as he sat in his corner with a small basin of water and a dirty cloth to rub the powder away from everything. He'd refused to remove his jerkin, and the stuff had been infuriatingly difficult to get out of the creases of his breast plate. His eyes were blurry; the gritty stuff still in them, and despite Fenris' best efforts he couldn't get it out. But as evening neared he still showed no signs of any serious side effects.

And Anders was sick of having the angry elf frightening his other patients.

"Go home," the mage said irritably, "If anything happens tonight come tell me in the morning." Fenris was just as glad to be gone from the place as Anders was to get rid of him, and the elf hurriedly gathered his newly cleaned sword and breastplate. Merril also began gathering her belongings, which had spread themselves around the clinic haphazardly.

Hawke was the only one who still seemed worried. "And if nothing happens?"

"If nothing happens than he doesn't have to bother to showing up," as soon as the mage said the biting words he obviously regretted them in the face of the woman's anger. He gave a great sigh and shot Fenris an annoyed glare before looking back to Hawke softly. "If nothing happens then he should be fine."

Something about the way he said that statement felt demeaning to Fenris. Like he was telling Hawke to take care of her dog; Anders didn't really give a damn. The mage's act irritated the elf, almost as much as the hand that was running up Hawke's arm. His jaw clenched tightly as she smiled warmly at the abomination. He didn't understand the foul emotions that the scene inspired, so he hurried out of the clinic, wanting to be away from them.

"Wait! Fenris!" Hawke's voice followed him out, and despite himself Fenris stopped in the darkness, illuminated hollowly by the lantern, a bit of the tension easing out of his shoulders. Being anywhere with the damned abomination always made his hackles rise.

But Hawke didn't follow him right away, and he looked back, just in time to watch the mage step closer. Hawke's words floated out to him softy.

"Thank you for all your help today, Anders." She said and Fenris glared at them from the darkness just outside.

"Be careful, alright?" he said. "You know the nights aren't safe."

She nodded, giving him a wry smile. "Not safe for the thugs, you mean?" He chuckled lightly at her words, but his eyes were still too serious. "I'll be fine. Fenris will be with me."

That was not what the mage wanted to hear.

He stepped closer still, and Hawke could feel the heat of his gaze; her breath caught as he tucked a few stray bangs behind her ear.

So did Fenris's. They were entirely too close to be proper, especially in the elf's standards. And he didn't like the glint that had entered the man's eyes, or the way they shot to Hawke's full lips. A sick feeling clawed at his heart and his stomach dropped. He was sure neither was a side effect of the powder.

Another quieter thing was said, too soft for Fenris to hear, and Anders leaned in suddenly. The elf could only watch from outside the clinic, horrified.

But just before the man's greedy mouth found hers, Hawke turned her head away, and Anders caught her cheek instead. Whatever had been clenching his heart let loose, and Fenris breathed again. His face suddenly felt extremely hot.

Hawke stepped away from the man with a small, rueful smile. Anders was incredibly handsome and a dear friend. He'd made it clear several times that he had strong feelings for Hawke, and his continuing admiration warmed her. His attentions - while not sought out - weren't entirely unwelcome, and she didn't really know why she'd stopped him.

No. that wasn't true. She knew exactly why, and fear crashed into her when she realized the reason was standing just outside watching them with fire in his eyes.

She sighed. The walk home would not be pleasant.

"Will you make sure Merril gets home, tonight?" Anders' looked disappointed and slightly defeated, but agreed with a tired smile.

It was hard to turn away from him, then. And harder still to get her feet to take her to face the angry elf outside, but if anything were to be said of Hawke, it was that she wasn't afraid of confrontation. "Goodnight, Anders," she said softly as she walked out of the clinic, his soft goodbyes following her into the dark, but she didn't dare turn to see his hurt.

Fenris wasted no time in the winding streets as they walked home, his stride was quick and Hawke knew he was eager to get away from her company.

She bit her cheek, disappointed with how spectacularly the day had failed. Fenris was untrusting of magic to begin with, and she'd known that going to a magic shop in the company of mages wasn't on the short list of things he enjoyed. But he'd been so distant lately, staying in his dark mansion, never coming on missions, hardly ever coming to the hanged man. She'd missed his company; that silent, strong presence that she'd grown so used to had vanished and a part of her felt vacant without him.

She'd known her plan was childish, but she'd been desperate to have him back at her side. She missed sitting and talking and drinking wine with him. She missed his hesitant smiles and shy surprise when she complimented him. And she missed his awkward flattery. She even missed the arguments.

But her terrible plan had gone far worse than she could have ever imagined. She worried that in her attempt to bring them back together, she'd just widened the rift. It must have been horrifying with his hatred of magic to have gone to a magic shop, and then have some unknown magical substance cast all over him. And it was her fault. She felt terrible.

And she was right – the day had certainly been a failure. But the horror of the powder was overshadowed by the sick feeling in the elf's gut. No magic or powder could make him feel as low as he felt that night. And it was all Hawke's fault. She only spurred that damned mage on, with her warm eyes and smiles and her kind words. He hated Anders, and even hated her a little at the moment for welcoming the mage's attentions.

But guilt crept in right alongside the anger. Fenris was well aware that the qualities that drew Anders to the woman were the same ones that kept himself at her side. She was everything he'd never known in life. Fenris couldn't really fault her kindness. But he wanted to.

He risked a glance at her, and noticed her distant expression, her pouted lips.

_Would she rather the abomination walk her home tonight? _It was a thought that brought a bitter taste to his mouth and he quickly looked away. He knew he could never have a claim to her, was absolutely certain he didn't want to have one, but that didn't make thinking of her with Anders any easier.

When they reached the Amell Estate he still avoided her gaze, confused and angry. "Fenris," she said quietly, willing his green eyes back to her. As usual he did the opposite, and turned his back on her. She sighed. "I'm sorry about today."

"It's nothing," his voice lacked the expected bite, and was weary. But despite his soft tones he was all tight shoulders and spikes.

A great silence stretched between them; the kind that Hawke had thought was behind them.

Guilt and worry forced Hawke to break it."…should I..stay with you tonight? Or you could stay in our guest room. If there are any side effe-"

He cut through the air and her words with a sharp, irritated slice of his hand. "No." he said with heavy finality.

The silence was there again.

He shook his head and she saw his shoulders fall. "Goodnight, Hawke." He did not wait for her reply before he stalked off into the night, leaving her with a very real fear that she may have pushed him too far; that her foolishness might have damaged their friendship irrevocably.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong>

_!Gasp! _Will Hawke be with Anders? Why does Halbert have such a stupid name? And what are the magic powder's effects?

I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! tune in next time to read: Flight!...(Fenris will not be flying:l)

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><p><strong>if you enjoyed this please review!<strong>

**I'm doing a bit of revamping! There were only little changes in this and the next several chapters. However Chapter 10 is completely different. I realized that I wasn't focusing on Fenris enough, so hopefully the changes in pace and writing will help move the story along. **

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><p>Okay so maybe the idea won't turn out to be as good as my hopes for it, but i needed to write this! This story will be a spin off of the game, it takes place during and after the second act. Sebastian is back and thinking about reclaiming Starkhaven, and nothing has happened with the Qunari yet. In the middle of the Second act the story will deviate completely from the game.<p>

It will be long. There will be many chapters. But hopefully they'll be good, and keep you readers happy. There will be a huge twist, intrigue, and of course love. Eventually there will be lots of turmoil... even more than that of a love triangle!

But for now, please enjoy the angst of supposedly unrequited love and horrible curses!

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><p>Blanket Disclaimer: Bioware owns all characters (except Halbert) and places.<p> 


	2. Flight

**Chapter 2 **

**Flight**

Her breath ghosted across his lips, sighing his name. Gentle fingers lightly caressed the back of his neck as they snuck their way into his hair, and he shivered at the pleasant sensation. She was so close, so soft, so warm. Hooded and dark eyes called to him as her kind hands insisted he lower his head. Some long buried instinct rose to answer that call, and desire blazed through him igniting a passion he'd forgotten as he complied.

Soft lips met his, plush but demanding and wanton. She set a gentle rhythm and he drifted along, lost in the feel of the kiss, the feel of her, of Hawke. As fiery and bold in this as she was in everything else she quickly took the lead, running her tongue in a playful caress along his lower lip. He gasped softly, searching for air and some grasp on reality, on why her kiss felt so right when a simple touch _should_ feel so wrong.

Fire burned away those thoughts, though, as her insistent tongue took advantage of his sighs and tangled with his, soft and curious and sweet. This was a battle he didn't know how to fight and she was dominant, nipping at his lips as she stole his breath. Her hands were tugging at his hair, and she was no longer so sweet, but demanding and forceful - and wonderful.

Her hips lifted, and she moved against him. He moaned her name and

Woke up.

Fenris struggled to calm his breathing as he sat up quickly.

Trying to get his bearings he searched wide eyed around the room, but there was no temptress with disheveled hair and kiss bruised lips sitting in the chairs by the fire, or in the empty, dusty bed. His heart raced as her sighs still echoed in his ears, burning through him.

A dream.

It'd been a dream.

But it had felt so real, so right! He still ached from her light touches; touches he shouldn't know about. He'd never felt anything like them before. The gentle intensity, the soft brush of lips and the kind caresses.

He'd never felt this hollow or wanting.

It wasn't possible that that had simply been a dream. His dreams weren't ever so…good.

He ran a hand, bare of the usual sharp gauntlets over his face and through stark hair. The dream was still fresh in his mind, but as his body calmed he remembered himself. Of course it had been a dream - after yesterday there was no way Hawke would end up in his arms. If anything, she'd be in Anders' soon.

She almost had been towards the end of the night, had almost kissed that abomination. Was that the cause of the dream, then? Did he want so badly to be the focus of her attentions that he would subconsciously put himself in the mage's place?

He scoffed at his foolishness and rubbed his blurry eyes. That damned powder was still there, gritty and annoying.

Anders had told him to sleep it off, but morning was still many hours away, and as his heart continued to race he knew sleep would not find him again.

He cursed softly, upset at himself, and at Hawke.

* * *

><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

* * *

><p>Halbert searched through the debris. He'd been at it all day and deep into the night, and he still wasn't done. Sadly he shifted the bits and pieces of broken glass carefully away from mingled liquids and picked through stained pages. The destruction was very depressing.<p>

It wasn't just the merchandise that was lost. He'd spent years collecting these things; each one was a memory, an adventure. And each one was hope - for some mage that needed to get away from the slavery forced on them in the guise of the Circle. He'd come to the city to help and offer these hopes.

And now they were gone, shattered and broken across his basement floor. Halbert shook his head sadly as he lifted a destroyed Tome of Knowledge from the rubble, its pages ripped from their bindings and colored oddly with dried potion.

True despair didn't hit him, though, till he found _the_ jar, small and gleaming amidst the wreckage. Halbert's hands shook as he lifted it. He'd forgotten he'd placed it on this shelf. Round and silver it had survived better than the other shattered containers. But its contents were gone, spilled out and dusting the debris around it. Just like it had dusted the tattooed elf.

He hadn't realized the powder covering the man had been this! _This is terrible! A tragedy!_ Halbert thought with a great panic as he fumbled about.

Even though the powder hadn't been completed it was close enough. The effects might be slightly different than the ordered but the end result would be the same.

When the container fell from Halbert's shaking hands the hollow crash didn't reach his ears.

He had been creating the powder, true, but he hadn't decided if he would actually _complete_ it. The mage had always been an advocate for people's rights and freedoms, and not just of mages. Filling that dark woman's order had gone against everything he'd ever believed in. He hadn't wanted too. The powder would force a fate too vile for anyone to deserve, and now in an accident it'd been forced on that poor elf.

But there was no way to help him now, Halbert knew. The elf was damned.

"Maker give you strength, friend." His pained whisper echoed out to his empty cellar, "I'm so sorry."

* * *

><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

* * *

><p>Fenris had been far more broody than usual today. His icy glare wasn't just frequent, it was continuous.<p>

When Hawke had gone to check on him this morning he'd answered the door that way. His cold welcome had destroyed whatever hopes she'd had that he'd forgiven her overnight. If anything he seemed even angrier with her.

It had been a surprise then, when he'd hesitantly agreed to follow her on her errands that day. She'd had to track a thief for some noble, and while she'd been glad for his support on the mission, his slightly malicious presence had unnerved her. He was far more fierce in battle, and eyed her with barely concealed contempt when she'd spoken to him. So she'd stopped trying. If he wanted to be foolish and contemptible then she could certainly return the favor. A silence had followed them into the thief's hole and an even heavier one had followed them out.

By the end of the day her nerves and emotions were left frayed and raw, and all she wanted was a nice strong drink with some good company at the Hanged Man.

But whatever surprise she'd had that morning when Fenris had stepped from his mansion was doubled when he stepped into the tavern with her, and she'd hoped he would maybe find some peace after a good day of work and let by gones be by gones.

He didn't relax at all, though, the cheap wines and light conversation didn't seem to help. With shoulders tight and straight he sat quietly in his corner, ignoring the jokes and laughter of the others.

While he'd never exactly warmed up to anyone, it was obvious he'd become comfortable with most of their company. He even seemed to enjoy Hawke's. But when she snuck glances at him now, it was like all of those good times were wiped away. He was colder than he had been in years, and the realization of the regression only hurt her more, anger rising to meet her confusion.

At first she'd understood, took the burden as her fault. But this was ridiculous. Nothing of weakness could be said of the women in her family. They had always prided themselves on their strength and boldness. But Fenris's cold grudge made her feel small and downright worthless.

And it pissed her off. She was eager for a distraction from him.

The distraction walked in a few moments later.

But it only brought more anger for Fenris.

It was Anders.

The accident in the magic shop had left Fenris feeling bitter, and the dream last night had only intensified the confusion he'd had regarding Hawke. He'd been in a foul mood all day, riddled with uncertainty; imagined memories of her soft lips had brought blushes unbidden and at odds with his anger. Not knowing how to handle the warring emotions he'd settled into a deep scowl, broody and uncomfortable.

But however angry and tense he'd been throughout the day, his discomfort only intensified when Anders arrived.

The audacious man went straight to Hawke who stood and accepted his friendly embrace. Pleasantries were traded and the woman scooted over, making room for the mage to sit near her, too eager and too close. Some unknown feeling assaulted the elf as he watched, twisting his insides painfully.

More drinks were ordered; shots were taken. Hawke tossed back a few more than she should have with Isabela. Putting his arm around Hawke, the mage pulled her closely to his side as she laughed at something he whispered in her ear.

Fenris couldn't watch them. He didn't understand it, but that twisting in his gut was back a thousand fold. He felt sick.

The elf stood quickly, his drink settling on the table a bit too loudly and his back rigid as he headed for the door.

Distantly he heard Hawke stop laughing. "Fenris?" she asked, but he didn't respond. His name echoed in his ears, haunting him as it changed from her question to her sighs.

As quickly as he could he wove his way through the patrons of the bar, seeking the exit. Hawke's worried calls did nothing to slow his flight.

The night air was refreshing when he burst out of the tavern, but it couldn't quell the fire that burned in him; the anger. To consumed with the darkness inside to pay attention to the shadows around him he stalked off into the night, eager to get back to his silent mansion – his sanctuary – and eager to get away from Hawke and that damned mage.

* * *

><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

* * *

><p>He didn't succeed. A few minutes after he slunk into his mansion with the image of Hawke with Anders burning his eyelids, the object of his torment slipped into his room.<p>

His pacing stopped when he saw her standing silently by the door, but his glower did not lift.

Hawke eyed him searchingly. His walls were up, the doors which had started to open for her shut tight and locked. "Why are you here?" he spat, his voice full venom.

"If you wanted to make me feel like shit today, you've done a good job." Cold words were said with a warm tone. She wasn't angry, but she was hurt. It was apparent to the perceptive young woman that something was bothering the elf, and had been for a while; she wouldn't begrude his attitude. "You've been distant lately." If it was what Fenris wanted then she couldn't stop it, but she'd be damned if she wouldn't try. "Why?" she asked eyeing him fiercely.

And in the face of her fiery determination he broke. His shoulders slumped and he couldn't meet her eyes. He felt terrible, knowing that Hawke had suffered for his foolishness, and a great weight settled on him. Despairingly he shook his head, white bangs falling to cover his haunted eyes. "I don't know," he said. And it was true.

He'd been frightened to realize how much of his life was beginning to revolve around Hawke; how much he was starting to care for her. So he'd pushed her away, as hard as he could, avoiding her, acting like an ass when she was around – acting like an even bigger one when Anders was. But he hadn't realized that the pain his purposeful distance caused would outweigh the fear of being so close. He felt empty without her, angry and alone. Perhaps if he'd realized sooner, separated himself from her before the Deep Roads, he wouldn't have become this attached.

But it was too late now. Too late to tear himself from her without tearing his own heart out as well.

He hoped it wasn't too late for Hawke to forgive him.

Hawke watched his struggles for only a moment before leaving her place at the door and going to him. She knew he didn't appreciate people coming too near, and usually she respected his aversion, but not now. Her friend's pain was too obvious to stay away.

Tentatively she reached out, giving him time to push her hand away if he didn't want her touch. But his physical rebuttal never came, and her hand gently lighted on his breastplate. His eyes were tentative, hesitant as he searched her's warily. But behind the fear of touch they were wracked with guilt, and whatever anger she'd had before was gone.

Fenris worried that the too-perceptive woman would feel his heart pounding through the chill metal, but he couldn't keep himself calm in such close proximity. She was so close, so near. He could smell the pungent alcohol on her breath, the dusty city on her clothes, but underneath it he could smell _her_. The soft soaps she used, and a lighter scent he didn't know as anything but Hawke.

So close.

_But she could be closer._

As though she'd heard his thoughts she stepped nearer. Hardly any space separated them now, and he could feel her breath ghosting across his lips.

Her eyes lost their worry, and became things dark and hooded and intense. And he was lost in them, floundering in a wave of emotions he didn't understand.

"Fenris," she breathed in a sigh.

And suddenly it was the same as in his dream; made better in reality. Her eyes called to him, holding him prisoner with their passion. His body was acutely aware of her, their closeness, the hand on his chest sneaking up towards his neck, burning through his armor with its feather light pressure.

His heart beat frantically as his eyes fell to her full lips.

Shaking his head slightly, he took a deep breath and stepped away from her escaping her wandering fingers before they could brush skin.

A very real pain erupted inside him when her hand fell away with his retreat. _Strange_, he thought distractedly, _touch was supposed to cause pain, not the other way around_. With everything he'd been through, her touch was not something he should want.

Hawke watched him sadly as he drew away and her disappointed sigh was not lost on the elf. "I...I'm sorry," he said hesitantly, shaking his head.

But her smile cut him off. "It's fine. Another night, maybe?" she said with a shrug as Fenris blushed at the implications and looked away. "Listen, Fenris," she started hesitantly, "I understand the past few years have been hard on you. That life has been hard. But I want..." she paused and seemed to think a long moment as she eyed him searchingly, till a small smile found its way to her lips, tinged with sadness. "I want you to be happy."

His gaze shot back to her, and he couldn't seem to swallow through his suddenly too tight throat. "If it means being distant," she continued, "Or even if you feel the need to move on, then I'll support you in that."

He was shaking his head before she finished, "No," he ground out. "It's not... It's just..." he broke off with a sigh, not knowing the answer himself. He ran his fingers though his hair in frustration.

Silence stretched between them but it was more comfortable than it had been in weeks.

After a while Hawke seemed to understand even without his explanation, and she nodded slowly. "I'm going to Sundermont tomorrow to help the Dalish hunters with something. I'd enjoy it, if you came."

He didn't hesitate in his acceptance this time.

"Good." She said softly as she turned to leave. "Good night, Fenris."Just before she left she tossed a quick smile over her shoulder; a smile meant just for him.

And Fenris felt lighter than he had in months.

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>:

A chapter filled with angst and a happy ending! But can happy endings last?

...and what will be the dire effect of the powder?

Come in next time to read: **The Fall!**

* * *

><p>I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. If you did <strong>please review.<strong>

and check out my all canon, regularly updated story: **Undone**

* * *

><p><strong>Reviewers:<strong>

**Kurgs: **thank you so much! and don't worry, this is a Fenris based story.

**LightsAurora: **nope, Halbert did not plan it. but can you guess what the powders side-effect is now?^^...and I tried to make the character pov switches more clear this time, thanks for the check!

**Stargazer177:** thank you, and I never cared for Anders either, but there is more drama if Hawke does.

**Rokubi:** Thanks!

**and thank you to the many people who are watching this story!**


	3. Fallen

**Chapter 3**

**Fallen**

The sun's warmth flowed over him in a calming caress as he lounged, easing his tense muscles and soothing his doubts.

Fenris had been worried to travel with Hawke after last night; worried that he wouldn't be able to deal with the imagined memories of his dreams. More dreams of her. And he'd spent most of the night pacing his dark mansion, uncertain of where these new intense feelings had come from; uncertain whether or not he should go with her to Sundermont.

But his fears had been for nothing. The rolling green hills surrounding the mountain and the warm sunlight of the early spring day erased whatever fears he'd had.

They'd arrived at the Dalish camp early, and the Hunters weren't yet ready for the mission. They'd had extra time, it was a beautiful day, and so they were spending the morning wisely– doing nothing.

Fenris was used to waiting. Waiting for Danarius's orders, waiting for Danarius to come for him again, waiting to be truly free. But waiting had never been this pleasant.

Hawke was sprawled a few feet away from him, stretched out on one of the blankets they'd borrowed, her eyes closed. The woman was always respectful of his aversion to people being too near so she'd made sure to keep a comfortable distance. She was so relaxed; so peaceful. Fenris didn't know if she was asleep, but he'd never gotten the chance to see her like this. He couldn't keep his eyes off her.

Her confident leisure was something he'd never known. Completely confident, completely sound – completely free. Rosy lips parted slightly, and dark lashes dusted her cheeks as dark locks feathered across her face, hair that would be soft as silk if only he were brave enough to reach out. Her chest rose and fell in a slow and steady rhythm as her quiet breathing lulled him. It was profound, the trust she showed him. He'd never allowed himself to be so relaxed around another and he savored the moment.

As he watched her doze his own lids grew heavy. He was weary, tired from two nights of haunting dreams and little sleep. When she'd left him last night he'd been filled with warmth – their near kiss still set his heart pounding– and he'd looked forward to a pleasant sleep.

But it'd been far more than pleasant.

Just like the night before he'd dreamed of her full lips, her passionate kisses.

Only this time they hadn't seemed content to stay locked with his and had wandered, moving with soft nips and licks down his neck. Urgent and wanton as they worked gasps and shudders from him. Her moans and sighs had shot through him with a primal intensity and wandering hands roamed farther than they had the previous night. A gentle nip to his ear, the tickle of her silky hair brushing his arms, the arch of her body against his. It'd been overwhelming – and wonderful.

Almost as wonderful as their current leisure.

But this was better.

Fenris couldn't feel guilty about this. Couldn't question where the feelings and sensations had come from because there was just this moment, just the sun and the grass and Hawke relaxed and happy beside him. There was nothing that could ruin –

"Hawke!" Her eyes flew open, startled from her light doze. It was Merril. The reclining woman looked blearily over to Fenris who was surprisingly still stretched out beside her. And annoyed. He obviously wasn't happy that their relaxation time was over. A soft sigh said she sympathized.

"Ha-wke!" Merril's sing-song voice called out again.

She groaned as she rolled to her stomach. "Coming!" she called. With reluctance resounding from the former peace she reached for her grieves and boots, and was happily surprised to see Fenris slowed with the same drowsy hesitation. He rubbed his eyes before slipping on his sharp gloves. She smiled at him, surprised with his uncharacteristic behavior.

This little break had been good for the elf; he'd been so weary on the hike here. His steps had been slower than usual and his atypical lethargy had worried Hawke.

There was no worry now. While she doubted if he'd actually slept – the elf was far too guarded to sleep in such an open area – she didn't doubt he'd appreciated the down time. She'd never seen him relax before; he was always the one on guard, keeping watch over them as they traveled. It was nice to know he'd let down his guard around her.

It was even nicer to know that he'd enjoyed it.

Standing stiffly she stretched, lifting her arms above her head and sighing deeply as her muscles pleasantly pulled. And watched curiously as red crept onto the elf's high cheekbones. Fenris was blushing.

That was unexpected. She'd never really noticed him blush before; but he definitely was now. _What was he-_

"Hawke!"

"Ugh!" she groaned. "I said I'm coming!" she yelled to the anxious Merril as she shook her head and ran her fingers through her slightly disheveled hair, then dropped to roll up her blanket. Fenris was already done and waiting and he fell into step beside her as they walked back to the Dalish camp.

When Merril saw them she ran over, far too awake and excited to be welcomed warmly by the drowsy pair; Fenris openly glared at her. Blood mages always ruined everything.

"Hawke," she greeted with a nod and a wide smile. "The hunters are ready." She grabbed Hawke's hand and pulled her towards the small group of Dalish men. Fenris's back straightened when he saw the contact. The twisting feeling was back, clawing at his gut; it was just a fraction of what he felt when Anders was with her, but it was still there. He didn't understand it, but it definitely set him on edge as he followed Hawke and the Hunters as they set out up the trail towards more hazardous hills.

Hills where Tal Varshoth had appeared. Apparently the Qunari renegades had started to push inland, wreaking havoc as they went. Now they were encroaching on the elves' camp and the Dalish Hunters planned on dealing with the threat to their clan promptly. When Merril had heard of the mission she'd asked Hawke to help, and now with keeper Marathari's permission, they joined the hunt.

Sundermont was a strange place, with warm sunny hills just a short distance away from the pressing chilled air of haunted peaks. As they hiked clouds blew in and the world was cast in grey. The drastic change from the earlier sunny warmth was enough to set them all on edge. The hunters' shoulders were tight, and everyone was quiet.

Except Merril and her nervous babbling didn't help the tension in the air.

Somehow she'd decided that teaching Hawke her clan's history was a good way of diffusing the anxiety of the group and with as much tact as Isabela propositioning she rambled on and on. Her open divulgence of their secrets was not welcomed by the Hunters, and as the unnatural chill in the air grew so did their anger.

It was obvious that the Hunters did not enjoy the company of their former first turned blood mage _and_ a _shemlen_. Hawke wanted no quarrel with the people so she tried her best to smile and avoid the frosty glares, sticking close to Fenris who took everything with his usual calm stoicism. She'd missed him over the past couple of months, and it was nice to have his silent comfort back for this long hike.

The path took them out of the encroaching trees and to a cliff overlooking a hidden gulley, a river raged in its bed, and the heavy mist rising from its churning waters chilled the air even more, adding an uncomfortable thickness. The small group wove their way through the large weathered boulders littering the ledge and Hawke shivered, rubbing her chilled arms as she surveyed the area, unnerved with the silence of this place. She would have thought to hear birds, or some other wild animals in a haven such as this, but there was nothing. All of Sundermont was hushed.

It was on that chilly and silent ledge that Merril decided Hawke and the Hunters should be better acquainted. She was sure that if her former clan members would only get to know the Hawke she knew, their trepidations and anger would disappear in an instant. "Hawke," she said grabbing the young woman's attention before beginning introductions. "This is Paul. He's the best Hunter of our clan. And very kind." He didn't look kind to Hawke, his deep frown and raging eyes almost matched Fenris's annoyed glares at Merril. Almost. Hawke gave an awkward little smile and wave at the man as Merril babbled on. "His wife is Ilsa, and she's expecting her first babe soon. How's she doing by the way? I'm sure she's fine. Keeper Marathari always takes good care of expectant mothers. And Paul is a very good husband to her."

She pointed out a taller Hunter with vivid blue eyes, iced over in irritation. "And this is Derikk-"

"She doesn't need to hear our names from you," spat the blue eyed elf as he took a dangerous step forward. "It's enough that you're here unwanted, we don't need to hear your voice con-"

A spear cut his sentence off, and came close to claiming his head. The missile harmlessly bounced off one of the nearby boulders and its clattering fall down the gulley was followed by the din of ferocious battle cries. The Tal Varsoth had found them.

The renegades were upon them in seconds, and the Hunters were not prepared for the ambush as chaos erupted. Several fell, while their comrades were able to draw their blades just in time. Merril's magic hissed and crackled in the air, and Hawke spun and twisted away from swiping axes and blades.

They were not in a good position for this attack, the large boulders, smooth and close together, made combat almost impossible in the area. Fenris realized the direness of their predicament, and as his markings ached with Merril's magic he watched in horror as the Tal Varshoth realized it too.

The large creatures quickly drew back from the tight spaces and Fenris knew what they were planning.

Quickly he scrambled around a boulder pressing his back against the smooth stone as spears rained down upon the trapped Hunters. One unfortunate fell next to Fenris, his eyes wide and staring. As missiles clicked rapidly off the stones around him he searched frantically for Hawke. Panic flooded him at the idea of her dead in this cold place; he would never forgive himself if she fell. His heart beat frantically as he dared to peek around the rounded edge of his boulder. And found her.

She was near the edge of the cliff, ducking and dodging well aimed spears. Their eyes locked and he gestured for her to come to him, to get out of the line of fire. It was an invitation she didn't question.

Fenris watched in horror as she hurried towards him, jumping away just as a spear struck near her foot. Her balance upset by the flying missiles, she stumbled to right herself, and in one horrible instant, the stunned elf watched the damp stones and soaked earth give out beneath her. With a sharp cry that fell on ringing ears, she slipped over the edge.

And was gone.

Breath wouldn't come to him. His heart stopped, frozen with shock as he stared at the spot where she'd vanished.

But when she didn't reappear it started pounding, feeding a cold horror into his veins that Fenris had never known. Without thinking and without hearing the din of battle all around him he stood on unsteady legs and staggered over to the place she'd fallen.

Into the river.

The cold mist from the rapids made the air thick and wet; hard to breathe, hard to see. But he searched, frantically watching the churning waters, desperately hoping to find her, desperately hoping those cold torrents hadn't taken her from him.

Distantly he heard Merril cry out to him as spears planted themselves in the ground too near to be safe. And then he saw it. Down river, in the midst of violent waters Hawke's dark hair rose out as she scrambled for purchase on the rocks about her, as water crashed and dragged her farther away.

And without question Fenris dove.

It was barely spring and the cold mountain waters were shockingly frigid. Gasping and cursing, he rose to the surface, his muscles already locking and tense from the shock. But he was determined, and forced his strong arms and legs to move, righting himself with the current and pushing off rocks as he was swept down the river. Water was in his eyes and ears and crashing around him; it pulled at him, drawing him under as he searched.

He didn't see her, couldn't find her on any of the rocks, couldn't find her in any of the chaos of rushing waters and spinning currents. He called for her, getting mouthfuls of water, choking and cold. Water crashed over him, pushed him under and swept him into great boulders, bruising him as he struggled.

And just when his panic became all consuming, her strangled yell found him as she was swept beneath the rapids.

Gritting his teeth he swam as best he could to follow her, trying desperately to keep his head above water. Moving with the current he quickly caught up and he grabbed for her frantically, blindly reaching in the churning waters.

Luck was the only thing that saved them as he grasped onto her forearm, drawing her up and close to him as they were swept along.

In those first few moments of panic they became a drowning mass of flailing limbs and gasping breaths, but as they were swept farther and farther downstream the current began to level out. Staying righted became easier, and Fenris kicked and fought the cold waters as they swam for shore.

He pulled the woman up with him as they clawed their way onto the rocky bank; their armor heavy and muscles already aching from the exertion of fighting the river. Coughing, they collapsed together, arms still intertwined as they gasped for breath.

He didn't know how long they lay there, trying to get air back into painfully tight lungs. His fingers grew numb as he clutched to Hawke, still panicked and unwilling to let her go. But when he found the strength to turn his head, he caught her staring at him. Her lips were blue and her hair clung to her too pale skin, but her brown eyes were sparkling and vibrant as she peered up at him through wet lashes. And then she did something he didn't expect in that moment of cold and panic.

She smiled and kissed him.

It was a quick kiss, completely chaste, her blue lips barely brushing the corner of his mouth. "Hawke-" he croaked in surprise. But she pulled her hand up to his face and placed cold and clumsy fingers over his frozen lips, silencing him. Distantly he recognized that he should fight her touch, but his body was too numb to feel the danger from her fingers.

Hawke grinned, and while the river may have taken half her life, it'd taken none of her fight. "A kiss for the Hero," she rasped, her throat too tight and choked to speak well. There was no passion in her touch, frozen fingers and lips would never have been able to manage it.

It was enough, though. Enough to let him know she was alive. Enough to light a warmth deep in his heart that fought the cold of his body.

Laying there facing her, too cold to shiver but too warm to think, a shy grin spread over Fenris's face and he delighted in the answering sparkle in her eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

* * *

><p>The walk back to the Dalish camp was long and slow.<p>

The Hunters had managed to defeat the Tal Varshoth in a quick turn of strategy and had searched for the fallen pair the rest of the day. When they'd found them, frozen but still together on the bank, Merril had been frantic. It hadn't taken the Hunters long to get word to Marathari and for the keeper to come.

Her healing magic saved them from the cold clutches of death, but even as they walked back into the ring of tents a chill still permeated their bones and every step hurt their bruised and aching bodies. Hawke felt guilty that instead of helping with the hunt they'd only caused the clan more problems, but when she tried to apologize to Marathari, the wizened elf dismissed her sorrows with a wave of her long fingers and a knowing look at Fenris.

When they reached camp a fire was built and Hawke and Fenris stayed close to each other as Merril fussed over them. She was stuck somewhere between fury at Fenris's stupidity and overwhelming gratitude that he'd saved Hawke. He didn't accept her many thanks, and ignored her harsh scolding. When she tried to make him remove his soaked and chilled armor, he pushed her away with a snarl, but it held no real vehemence and Hawke was easily able to persuade him.

The three were given blankets and bedrolls and dry clothes courtesy of the Keeper and it wasn't long before they were comfortable and warm, laying in a tight little circle around the cheery fire. Merril was humming to herself as she watched the stars. Hawke had removed her wet and ruined armor and blinked blearily at the flames, warm and dry.

Fenris found himself sneaking glances at the exhausted woman as often as he dared. The very real memory of the soft brush of her lips heating his cheeks, and the memory of his complete panic making his limbs heavy in its aftermath.

He'd been scared – truly scared - for the first time in his life. As her panicked eyes had disappeared over the cliff and she'd fallen into that frozen river something had fallen into place within him.

He didn't think he could live without her.

She was the only support, the only kindness the hunted elf had ever known - the only friend. He couldn't imagine his life without her soft smiles and quick wit anymore. He needed her fierceness and strength as much as he needed his own. If she died, he wouldn't have any reason to continue fighting for his freedom, because there was nothing freedom could offer that could equal her.

The thought was only slightly unsettling – not the cold terror he'd experienced earlier. A low sigh blew past his lips as he watched sleep claim the woman. _She's alive, and that's what matters now,_ he thought as his own lids grew heavy. He was exhausted, bruised and battered emotionally as well as physically, but content with the knowledge that Hawke would be there and safe when he woke.

* * *

><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

* * *

><p>But she was in his dreams, too. Clinging to him and sighing his name as she moved.<p>

She drew back to look at him through her wet lashes. Her hair clung to her, draped over her shoulders in thick tendrils darkened and wet. Water droplets sparkled like diamonds on the smooth planes of her pale skin. It was different than on the river bank, though. Her lips weren't deathly blue, but full and red and so close.

"Fenris," she said breathlessly. "I want you, Fenris." She rocked her hips against his and he gasped at the sensation of her movements. Her hands were roaming, trying to unclasp the buckles of his armor, trying to find his skin. Her lips attacked him fiercely, hot wet kisses overcoming his senses as they burned him, as his tentative control slipped through his grasp. "Tell me you want me" She breathed, her breath tickling his lips as she bucked against him again. He groaned at the overwhelming sensations, his body aching.

"Fenris." She gasped breathlessly. "Tell me." He couldn't speak, couldn't form the words to tell her just how much he wanted her, couldn't begin to describe the depths of his need.

Before he could stutter anything at all, she gasped his name again as her hands clenched his shoulders.

"Tell me.." But something was wrong, off. Her voice became desperate and panicked and her hands shook him.

"Tell me what's wrong!"

His eyes snapped open.

And above him was…Merril?

He twisted away roughly and into a ready crouch as the elf fell away from him. The woman had been touching him, the blood mage! A great fury rose in him and he let his burning markings flame to life, drowning out the dim light of the fire's cooling ashes and igniting the area with a rush of unnatural light.

Merril stared at him, her owlish eyes even wider than normal. "Fenris! Are you alright?" she asked breathlessly. He stared back at her coldly; fully intent on attacking, but her frantic words stilled his hand. "I didn't understand what was happening. Are you alright? Are you hurting?" She whispered, fear evident in her voice.

So she was afraid for him, not of him? It made no sense. "What are you talking about, witch?" he hissed at her, none of his rage lost in spite of his confusion.

She shook, obviously troubled. "You-You were moaning. I thought maybe in the river-" But he didn't hear anything else.

The dream of Hawke flew back to him full force. His markings lost their light as a heavy blush stained his cheeks. He'd been moaning? A quick fearful glance at a sleeping Hawke reassured him that she hadn't heard anything.

"Do I need to get the Keeper?" asked Merril, her hushed voice trembling.

He was shaking his head before she finished. "No."

"Are you sure-"

"I said no!" he hissed. "Go back to sleep."

Hesitantly Merril listened to him, softly padding over to her bedroll. She didn't lie down, though, but sat and stared at him with owlish eyes that glinted eerily in the low light of the coming dawn. He shivered despite himself, and pulled his blanket over his shoulders as he rubbed his bleary eyes. The clan had lent both he and Hawke dry clothes, but he felt bare without his armor, and the mage's penetrating gaze didn't help him relax.

A heavy blush still stained his high cheekbones, and he risked another glance at Hawke's sleeping form. Her quiet breathing helped to slowly ease the tension out of his shoulders and drew his thoughts away from his vivid dreams and embarrassment, and back into reality. She was alive, she was safe…

She'd kissed him.

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><p><strong>AN<strong>:

And in the darkness love blooms! But when the desperation is over will love remain?

tune in next time to read: **Crash Landing**

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><p><strong>if you enjoyed this, please review.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Reviewers:<strong>

**I am really excited with how eager people are for updates. Your reviews are so encouraging and help me continue to want to write this.**

**LightsAurora: **Thanks for your continuing support! hehehe...your theories for the powder could be correct...but then maybe not...just wait and see^^it's terrible.

**Medusa Davenport: **nope sorry...I have something even worse planned! although that would be an amazing completely non-cliche twist. and thank you for your encouraging review!

**And thank you to everyone else who's reviewed this story and the many many people who are watching it.**


	4. Crash Landing

**Chapter 4**

**Crash Landing**

"Drinks for Hawke and the elf! Put them on my tab!" Called Varric as Norah left the suite.

It'd been evening by the time Hawke, Fenris and Merril had made it back to Kirkwall. Tired, achy, and cold they'd gathered at the Hanged Man for a blazing fire and warm friendship. They'd sat with Varric and Isabela and recounted the tumultuous venture. True to his nature Varric had turned Hawke's near death experience into an epic tale of daring rescue and the story telling only got more vivid as Anders and Sebastian arrived.

Between Hawke and Varric, they both made it sound far more grand than falling in a river actually was, and though he knew it was the dwarf's way, Fenris had never been the main hero in his stories. The decoration was met with his embarrassed silence.

The elf was used to appreciation and praise; under Danarius he'd experienced much of it, though it had been twisted and vile. A guest's admiring hand drifting too far, tracing his burning brands; the Magisters' congratulatory remarks on a successful, surviving experiment. None of it had been kind, and none of it had been directed towards him. Anything he did and everything he was was reflected directly onto his master. It was enough to make a man feel like he was nothing.

But to receive true thanks and praise from people he so fiercely respected – especially from Hawke – was a heady feeling and he found himself blushing at her words more than once.

Drinks arrived, skipping Sebastian's seat. The man had watched and listened intently to their story, and eyed both Fenris and Hawke with worry. As a game of wicked grace started and they all quietly eyed their cards he spoke to them somberly, at odds with the general warmth and comfort of the room. "Sometimes," he said, "when faced with death, a person realizes there were things that had been lacking in their lives. Things they'd wished they'd done..."

"Or people you wished you'd done," Isabela lilted as she gazed lustily at Hawke over her cards.

Sebastian shot her an irritated look as he continued. "Or things they'd wished they'd had. You've had a very full life for a woman of your age, and it's obvious that you are happy, but there are undoubtedly things you still wish to do. Death can make regrets resurface, or bring to light things you regret not doing."

Hawke's eyes were solemnly locked on her cards as she hummed non-committedly, and Fenris wondered at the mystery in her suddenly distant gaze. She was strong willed and bold; if there was something she wanted, wouldn't she have already taken it?

The possibility that she was unhappy made him strangely uneasy.

"What about you elf?" chuckled Varric as he leaned in with a knowing grin that was full of mischief. "Anything you regret not doing?"

"Or anyone?" added Isabela as she turned her heated eyes to the elf. Their teasing made him uncomfortable and he shifted in his seat as he struggled to keep his eyes from drifting back to Hawke under their sudden scrutiny.

Ignoring the others, Sebastian nodded to him warmly. "My offer extends to you as well. Even though you were courageous, you were faced with the same risks as Hawke. Look for me at the Chantry. Or if you want anonymity feel free to use the confessionals. Anything said or done in them will be confidential."

The pirate's hooded eyes swung to him, releasing Fenris. "Confidential?" the word rolled off her tongue with a husky breath. She hummed, as she leaned towards the Brother. "I have a few sins to confess."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her boldness. "Really?" he asked dryly.

"O, yes." She said, ignoring her cards for a moment. "I've been a very, _very_ naughty girl."

"You might want to fold, Rivaini. Won't win this round." Varric said nonchalantly as he drew back from sneaking a peek at her cards while the she was distracted. The pirate rounded on the dwarf, accusations instead of flirtations singing off her tongue harshly, but her ire helped to lighten the mood and nothing else too serious was said.

Fenris ignored the ensuing banter as he considered Sebastian's offer. It was true that as a slave Fenris had been forced to do many things that haunted his steps as a free man. Things he regretted; things that were the stuff of his nightmares.

But if his dreams showed him his regrets then they also showed him his desires. He risked a shy glance at Hawke who was laughing again, but looked away quickly as their eyes locked, the intensity behind that look confusing.

The woman was a mystery to him, and his feelings towards her even more so. However wrong or impossible it seemed, the only thing he'd thought about in that cold river had been her – she was the only thing he ever thought about recently. His chaotic emotions confused him. He didn't understand the panic he'd felt as she'd slipped over that ledge, didn't understand the horrible wrenching feeling that tugged at his gut when someone else was around her or the terrible lethargy that overcame him when she was away, and he didn't understand his dreams. Nothing seemed to make sense to him lately.

The only thing that had set him at ease these past few days had been her kiss – however chaste. He felt heat creep up his cheeks at the pleasant memory. In that moment, Fenris had felt more at peace than he had his entire life.

And it was real.

The dreams which had been plaguing him felt wrong in comparison; dirty. Fake memories that followed his steps and corrupted his emotions, leaving him hollow and wanting when he woke; frustrated and worried the rest of the day.

And tired. He was very tired.

What all of it meant, he didn't know. He knew he cared for Hawke – deeply – but the rest was a mystery.

Something had changed, and Fenris couldn't figure out what.

As Hawke folded her last hand she stretched with a soft groan. The games had dwindled down as Merril fell asleep in a plush chair in the corner, Anders had disappeared, and now she was tired. The company and the fire had warmed her, banishing the chill left over from the horrific incident the day before, and the drink left her comfortable and a bit lightheaded.

Though she blamed a bit of the latter on the elf at her side.

Fenris's heated gaze had hardly strayed from her all night, and the intensity in his eyes left her feeling giddy. He was never _not_ mysterious and handsome, but when he relaxed and let his guard down he was breathtaking. His hooded regard made it hard for her to think straight and she'd lost quite a few bets thanks to him.

"Well," she said as she put her hands on the table and pushed her chair back. "I'm done. It's time I went home. Bodhan and mother will be worried if I stay out too late." She joked winking at Varric and Isabela as she stood. Fenris rose with her and waited as she gathered her things.

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><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

* * *

><p>The walk home was quiet and chilly, and Hawke's steps swayed slightly. She'd never noticed how biting early spring nights were in Kirkwall.<p>

But she did notice Fenris. The darkness failed to dull his stark white hair and markings, and he looked much softer in quiet moonlight than he did during the day. He walked proudly in the dark, but his steps echoed of readiness as he watched the shadows around them; the elf was feral and wild even when he was relaxed. Hawke decided she liked that.

Sebastian's words floated back to her. As she watched Fenris walk beside her she decided that the man had been right.

There were things she wanted to do.

As they approached the estate, she realized she didn't want him to leave tonight. Even though he was unbearably silent most of the time, his presence was strong and comforting. And he was so incredibly…Fenris. Who else did she know that would jump into a raging river after her? No one. There was no one else in Thedas who could equal his fierce yet shy charm. What girl wouldn't want him?

Hawke stopped before they reached the estate, and he halted with her. Bohdan had left the lanterns in the entryway burning for her as he did every night and the warm light fell on the elf's features, lighting the sharp planes of his face mysteriously as he turned to her with questions in his green eyes. Her breath caught.

Curious and a bit drunk she took a step closer and let her fingers gently brush his armored ones. He didn't move away like usual, and she smiled approvingly as she intertwined their fingers. His eyes darkened as she stepped closer still, and she shivered under their intensity. Hawke searched that deep gaze for a moment, but couldn't find what she was looking for – didn't know what she was trying to find in the first place.

"Are you going to leave?" she asked.

Jerkily he drew away from her, obviously confused by her question as his eyes became guarded again. "I don't understand…" he said hesitantly as he shook his head.

When she'd come so close he'd thought- But no. Hopes Fenris hadn't known he'd had fell along with his racing heart. Her tone rang with finality; he didn't understand what she was asking. Had he misread her signals? Was this her rejection?

Her eyes were solemn as she peered up at him through thick lashes. "You've been looking at me again."

_What?..._Fenris was confused.

"It's just…" he was surprised to see her cheeks darken as she tried to explain. "Just that the last time you looked at me like this you disappeared for a couple months."

He nodded, understanding rising along with his embarrassment; he hadn't known he'd been so obvious with his regard. There was silence for a few moments as he thought about how to reply. He'd fled the unknown feelings before, and that had only complicated things and hurt them both. He wouldn't do the same again willingly. But he didn't know if Hawke was comfortable with whatever was growing between them. He didn't know if he was.

"Do you want me to disappear?" he asked softly after a moment. Fear rose in him that her answer would be yes; he didn't know what he would do if it was. But he wouldn't force his presence on her if he was unwanted.

The soft smile that rose on her full lips calmed his worry. "No." her voice was quiet, breathy, and her tone was too similar to her words in his dreams. He shivered. "No, Fenris," she drew close again, and he lost his breath to her nearness. "I…" she started slowly as she tugged at their intertwined fingers, bringing him closer still as she raised her face. Fenris felt his heart pound in his throat. "I want you to-"

"Hawke?" the voice broke the moment as she turned away from him. Fenris followed her gaze to the Estate entryway, and whatever warmth he'd had now became furious anger.

It was Anders.

Apparently his rage was obvious, because Hawke shook her head. "It's fine. It's just Anders," she reassured. The hard set of his jaw told her exactly what Fenris thought of the mage's presence. "Just go home," she laughed as she turned away, releasing their entwined fingers. "I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

She watched for a long moment until he finally gave a jerky nod and stepped away into the night. A strange emptiness filled her as she watched him go. For some reason, it felt wrong.

"Hawke?" She turned to Anders with a smile and missed Fenris darting behind a wall just out of the lamplight. The man looked at her searchingly for a moment. "We…We need to talk."

Her smile fell a little at his somber tone. Her lightheadedness hadn't dissipated, and she was flustered from another near kiss with Fenris. She shook her head a little, trying to clear the fog of intoxicated passion.

Anders moving closer didn't help.

"Listen, Hawke, I…I know I said it wasn't smart for us to be together. That I'm dangerous, and that it would only end in pain." He was talking quickly now, and Hawke tried to piece together what he was saying as she tipsily noticed the lamplight wasn't as mysterious on his face as it was on Fenris's. "But... Maker, Hawke, you almost died yesterday." He choked out.

_I think I like mysterious… _she thought as she cocked her head.

But Anders was handsome, too. Very much so. He was much softer than Fenris with his red-blond hair and paler skin. His cheeks were rounder, too, not hollowed from so many years of running, and he had a light dusting of facial hair. Hawke decided she liked it, very much. And she liked his blue eyes.

There was no denying the man was gorgeous.

But there was something missing. Something she couldn't quite place at the moment.

"You're finally looking at me." his soft chuckle startled her from her inspection. She hadn't realized he'd stopped talking, or that she'd been staring. _Definitely one-too-many_. She thought with a low sigh.

Something caught his attention and he looked behind her for a moment as annoyance twisted his brow. But as she tried to turn to see what it was, he caught her hands in his larger one and pulled them against his chest, drawing her closer.

"I'm glad." He said as he snuck his other hand down to rest on her hip. For some reason she didn't know, she let him.

"Hawke," he breathed, and she could feel his broad chest beneath her hands and his warm breath on her lips as his soft words gently blew away her thoughts. "I can't." He let go of her hands, and she couldn't move them away, didn't know how in that moment. "I can't stay away from you any longer." His calloused hand ran up her arm, and she shivered as it sank into her silky hair.

"I love you," he breathed and then lowered his lips to hers.

It was everything a kiss should be. It was hot, and fierce and passionate. His lips left her breathless and sent her reeling with their dominance.

But somewhere in the back of her mind a little alarm was going off. For some reason she expected kisses to be frozen and chaste; imagined them to hint of expensive wines from a dark mansion. Thought there should be more of a feraly loyal edge to a kiss.

When his tongue snuck its way past her lips, though, her doubts crumbled.

Along with Fenris's world.

He watched from behind a cold stone wall as the kiss deepened; as the abomination took what Fenris had been dreaming of.

And as Hawke didn't push him away.

But she _had _too, he thought wildly. The monster had to be forcing her. It was some spell, or magic, or trick. Hawke would never let him, would never rest her hands on his chest so gently, and would never kiss him back. She _couldn't._

But she did.

And she didn't push him away.

Suddenly he felt very_ very_ sick.

Hawke's gasp echoed out to him, and Fenris couldn't watch any longer. Numbly he tore his eyes from the scene and fell back against the cold stone wall. He couldn't feel the chill, couldn't feel anything beyond the hollow ache blooming in his chest.

Breath wouldn't come to him and he slid weakly down the wall, trembling, trying to curl in on himself as hopes he hadn't even been aware of collapsed around him.

This was all so wrong. Hawke wasn't supposed to be kissing the abomination!

_Who's she supposed to kiss, then? You? _His own thoughts mocked him cruelly, and that horrible subconscious doubt that he'd fought for so long began to creep back in. _You're an ex-slave and an Elvin fugitive. What woman would choose _that_ over a mage?_

He shook his head trying to clear the painful truths as the cold air of the night stung his eyes viscously. Rubbing at them didn't help. They were still gritty several days after the powder, and now branded with the horrible image of that monster wrapped around Hawke. He gasped at this new pain and tried vainly to erase that image with deep shuddering breaths that couldn't calm him; couldn't fill the cold ache spreading through him.

He cursed breathlessly.

"Fenris."

He flinched but struggled to look up through his bangs; forced himself to meet the eyes of the person who had just devastated him.

Anders.

Looking down on him with those haughty eyes Fenris hated so much; always looking down. Just like every mage. But something else was in his gaze this time; something more degrading and demeaning than any amount of hate.

There was pity in the man's blue eyes.

"Fenris-" the mage started again. Fenris hissed at him, not trusting himself to be able to force words past the choking lump in his throat. Anders shook his head and sighed. "I wanted to thank you."

He froze. _Thank him?_ For what? The man was twisted. Evil. A growl ripped through his pained chest, feral and inhuman, as he felt the pulse of the lyrium in his skin. He wanted this man dead, more than any other, more than he'd ever wanted Danarius!

But his hand stilled at the memory of Hawke's eyes fluttering shut, of her submitting to the abomination's embrace. Her kiss told him what her words had not. She loved this man, and he couldn't bring himself to cause her pain.

He hunched his shoulders more, trying to curl away from the sympathy in Ander's eyes.

"I wanted to thank you for saving her." The man continued. "I love her, and I don't know what I would do if she died."

It was obvious Fenris was not going to reply. Anders ran his hand through his hair, watching the proud warrior fall apart before him. He'd never cared for Fenris; there had always been a strong hatred between the two, and an even stronger jealousy concerning Hawke. But the elf before him was not the same one he shared a rivalry with, not the same fierce and dangerous creature. This man was broken.

"I'm sorry," Anders said quietly, knowing that there was nothing to be done for the elf; knowing that if he hadn't disturbed the two when he had, it very well could have been him huddled in the shadows.

"Leave me," Fenris hissed, forcing the words past his clenched teeth.

With a sigh Anders turned away and stepped off into the night, leaving Fenris to his grief.

And the elf stayed there, crumpled against the wall and lost in his sorrow, wondering how he could continue living when it felt like his heart had just been ripped out.

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><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

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><p>Around a few corners, down the street, and through several locked doors Halbert sat in front of a blazing fire in his overstuffed chair.<p>

But the heat of the flames wasn't enough to fight the chill of the unearthly voice that drifted from the shadows behind him. "You have something for me, mage?" it was no more than a soft hiss; a soft caress of evil breath, but Halbert had been expecting it.

He shook his head slightly, unwilling to relay the message. But the dark messenger wouldn't leave without it, so he forced the words past his dry lips. "It's done." He paused for a moment, hesitant to say the damning words. "Tell your mistress it is done. Her order has already been administered."

A quiet hiss echoed from the shadows. "She will be pleased with your initiative," said the spirit, and a chill washed over Halbert with that statement. He was well aware of just how vile the woman's approval was.

Suddenly, as quickly as it had come, the chill was lifted and the shadows disappeared into cracks and holes, returning to their mistress. Warmth filled the room again, but it was no relief to Halbert.

The mage sat quietly, numb to the comfort around him as he stared sadly at the dented little silver jar in his lap. He'd never known guilt more crushing than what he felt at that moment.

Dark forces were coming to this city.

The elf was damned.

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><p><strong>An:<strong>

...oh no.

Tune in next time to finally learn the truth of the magic powder in: **Confessions**

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><p><strong>If you enjoyed this chapter, please review!<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Reviewers:<strong>

**MaryGolden: **thank you so much for your compliments! it means a lot that you think I've improved.

**LightsAurora: **thank you, too! you have been a very kind support since the beginning! thanks so much. and i'm glad you liked the fluff^^

**Stargazer177**: no he will not die...think even worse!

**WingedHourglass**: Thank you! and yeah, it's hard to write Anders in a nice light when most of it is from Fenris's pov. Even if I don't care for him, I do think Anders is a very good character, and I want to show more of that in future chapters. helps with the angst.

**I've gotten a lot of Anonymous reviewers - or people just didn't sign in. so I'll adress a few points:**

:no, this is not a Fenris/Hawke turned baby fic. obviously.

: some of you left errors for me to fix, and I have. Thank you!

:I will update as soon as possible.

**and thank you to everyone who reviewed and the many people who are watching this story. your support inspires me.**


	5. Confessions

**Chapter 5 **

**Confessions**

Two weeks.

Two weeks of pain.

Of suffering.

Of nightmares.

That's what they were now. Dreams which before had made his fears of intimacy seem distant, which had showed him sensations he'd never imagined possible, now haunted him as surely as Danarius.

At night - every night - she was there; more forceful, more demanding than the last. Dark eyes and full lips calling to him as she stole his will with kisses and touches and wild wantonness.

It wasn't what he'd seen in Minrathos, it wasn't evil, but it was twisted. To wake every time from imagined memories of being with her to the very real memory of her with _Anders_ was indescribably painful. The evil image of that abomination curled around her still hadn't left him. It haunted him as he paced his dark mansion day after day, night after night, along with imagined sighs he shouldn't know about; had no right to know about.

He didn't understand!

He had no memories to base these dreams off of. All he'd ever known was pain. The pain of torture, of punishment, of his master using the power he required of his pet. And the pain of being less than a man, of not being able to shun the cold hands that greedily explored his markings. Hate and self-loathing were what he knew; pain and ache were branded into his skin as surely as the lyrium.

He should not know her touch. He should not know pleasure.

But his dreams assured him that he did; whispers of things that would have been improbable before his branding, and impossible after. Touch was something he strictly avoided; he hadn't touched or been touched in years. Touch could only ever be painful, he relentlessly tried to remind himself. It was true that he'd had contact: punches in battle, gripping armor. Hawke had often touched his hard gauntlets, and had recently placed her hand on his breastplate. Desperation had kept his grip on her tight on the river bank, and her kiss had shocked him. If these things were not quick and surprising he would never have allowed them.

His dreams had persuaded him to allow more. That promise of pleasure had kept him still against his fear as their fingers had gently intertwined that night two weeks ago. Her fingers had been less than centimeters away from his bare and calloused palm. He'd wanted more. For the first time in his remembered life, he didn't fear the brush of skin.

But now he knew a new pain; more sharp and damning than any physical torture he'd endured under Danarius.

Hawke was with Anders.

And the hollow ache was excruciating.

Fenris didn't know when the woman had acquired such a hold over him, but for some reason the fact that she'd chosen another ate at him. It was more than just the burn of scorned desire; it was deeper and much more consuming.

He couldn't stand it.

She'd come by the morning after the kiss and he hadn't been able to look at her. The next evening she'd come again, but he hadn't spoken to her. Each visit she became more and more frantic. She didn't understand, she'd said. And then yelled. And neither did he.

Before he'd believed that all he'd ever need was his life and his freedom, but now in her absence it all felt empty. He felt empty. Eventually she'd stopped coming to his mansion, and the knowledge that he'd driven her away was almost as unbearable as catching her with Anders.

He could find no peace. Away from her he was a mess of rage and want, but seeing her tore at the newly opened ache.

And always those dreams!

Wine hadn't been able to drown them. He'd driven himself to exhaustion trying to avoid them. Nothing he did could help him escape.

And every night they were more and more intense. Hawke had become more vivid; her hands had wandered farther, had removed his armor and snuck to places they didn't belong. And his own hands had followed, gliding over the smooth expanse of her skin. She'd moved against him, touched him in ways he would never ask her to. She'd done things to him that he'd seen Danarius force others to do; things that had felt good despite their wrongness. He was disgusted with these recent, vivid nightmares; he was disgusted with himself.

He should have never allowed that kiss on the riverbank! It had added reality to the dreams. They were driving him crazy.

Fenris was angry at Hawke for what she'd done to him.

He needed her.

He was frustrated with her.

And he missed her terribly.

He didn't understand.

He had nothing to base his frantic and chaotic emotions on; no experience and no one to talk to. Nowhere to turn.

So he'd come to the Chantry.

It was raining, he was drenched; his hair stuck to his face, and water dripped into his dry eyes. The large engraved doors loomed before him, intimidating, and for all the claims of religion, were not welcoming. They were not the grandest thing he'd ever seen, the carved stories felt empty to him and he was not awe-inspired with the designs. He doubted what he'd find inside would be much more promising, but something told him that if he were able to talk and sort through his problems he would understand.

But the person he'd talked too had been Hawke. And he would die before he let her find out about his dreams.

That left confessional. He was not religious, but Sebastian had promised secrecy and acceptance. It was all he needed right now.

So with desperation to escape his wild emotions, he placed his hand against the thick wood and pushed it open just enough to slip inside.

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><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

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><p>"Hello?" Hawke called as the bell jangled against the door. Highly suspicious the owner would not be happy to see her she slipped in with great caution. Looking around the vacant shop, she removed her drenched cloak and hung it on the coat rack. It didn't look as though anyone were here. The door shut with another tinkle of the bell, locking the cold of the early spring storm out.<p>

The second ring drew the shop keep out of the back rooms, but the man froze when he recognized her, eyes going wide.

Before he could turn away or start casting horrible curses on her, Hawke raised her hands entreatingly. "I know. I know you're probably not very happy to see me. Just hear me out, alright?" she said, wary of his reaction.

The mage was quiet for a moment before he slowly pulled out his monocle and put it to his eye as he cleared his throat. "Is this…Is this about the elf?" he asked slowly, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Grim, but determined Hawke nodded. "Yes," she said sadly.

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><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

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><p>The inside of the small booth was the same as everything else: empty opulence. Fenris understood it was to inspire faith, but he felt none of that as he stared at the little carvings and embroidered tapestry. It made him edgy, leaving his sword outside the booth and speaking to a stranger hidden behind a dark partition. He couldn't understand why this helped people.<p>

"You have sins to confess?" asked a soft, older voice from behind the screen. It wasn't Sebastian. Good. When Fenris didn't answer the man continued, "The Maker forgives those who confess their sins and feel guilt. Have you sinned, Ser?"

"I have," Fenris said grimly. "I have committed and witnessed sins that you could never imagine."

There was silence for a moment behind the screen. "Have you come to repent them?"

"No," Fenris growled out. "I have come for guidance, if your's is suitable." It was harrowing to sit in this tight space, intending to tell a stranger his secrets. Instinctively he recoiled from the idea. But his instincts also told him that if he didn't sort through his emotions he'd lose Hawke forever. And the thought of that future was unbearable. So just like at the river, he took a deep breath and dove.

"There is a woman," he said softly. "She…she is more than I could expect you to know, more than I have ever known. Kinder and fiercer than any other. And I have become…" he paused, floundering for the right word. "...attached." he said finally. "I can't be apart from her, but I can no longer be with her."

"You love this woman?" the question stole his breath for a moment.

Love?

It was a word that hadn't existed in his world of pain and desperation and hate; he'd never even dared to dream of the sentiment.

But could that be the truth of it? Was that why it was so unbearable to be without her? So painful to see her with another? The idea that love was even possible for him sent him reeling.

"She's with Anders," before he realized it the choked words had snuck past his lips.

The man behind the screen sighed. "Ahhh," he said sadly, "to see the woman he loves with another: the greatest pain a man could know. There is no way past the jealousy you must feel. It is natural."

Fenris was silent for a moment, trying to process things, to see if the old man were right. That twisting in his gut had been jealousy? If that were true than he'd been sick with it for months.

"You said you cannot be without her? If you desire her friendship, then you must swallow your pride. Perhaps this Anders is not so bad a man?" Fenris openly scoffed at that, and a light chuckle echoed behind the screen. "Even so, the woman you love loves him. There must be some good in his heart."

Fenris supposed it could be true. Unlikely, but there was a possibility.

"If you let your jealousy consume you, this woman will hate you for it. You must put your own hate behind you – no matter the pain –if you truly wish your friendship to continue."

Images of Anders wrapped around Hawke assaulted him again, followed by breathy sighs echoing in his ears. He shifted uncomfortably as he cleared his throat. "And what about the rest? There is more that is not jealousy."

A soft chuckle answered him again. "The desire? It is hard to ignore, but possible."

"It's not." Fenris said shaking his head as the ghost of caressing fingers tickled his skin. "I…" a deep blush crept up his cheeks as he trailed off. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "There are dreams. All night. Every night. Unnatural dreams, and I cannot ignore those."

There was a long silence, and Fenris was disgusted at his own admittance. Dreams of a woman while she loved another. It was sick; dirty.

Finally the priest spoke, "Unnatural, you say? When did these…dreams begin plaguing you so?"

The blatant suspicion behind the man's words was evident. Fenris snorted. "I am no mage, priest. Demons do not plague me."

He could practically hear the man's relief. "That is…good. Still, is there no outside force that could have caused these dreams? A spell or a curse, perhaps?" That was completely believable. The dreams had become so tortuous that Fenris was readily able to see them as a curse.

For a moment he thought about it. It was hard to place all of the chaotic and erotic images and sensations in a specific timeline. It'd been weeks, maybe a month. A month of hardly any sleep and constant questions. But the first night she'd snuck into his dreams was the night he'd watched Anders nearly kiss her in his clinic. The day Merril had spilled a mage's hoard of unknown potions and powders on them.

The day he'd gotten the powder in his eyes .

Eyes that were still gritty.

Fenris didn't bother to reply or thank the man for his help as he jumped out of the confessional as quickly as he could, reaching for his sword as he crashed out. The embroidered curtain ripped its rod from it's fastens to fall with a bang behind him. People gasped at the sudden commotion and stared as he rushed out of the Chantry, but he didn't care.

It was the powder? That damned powder was a love potion?

He was going to _kill_ that mage!

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><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

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><p>Hawke was surprised at the despair that seemed to overcome the mage with her answer. "Your name is Halbert, right? My name is Hawke. Marian Hawke. I came to apologize for the damages done to your shop. Merril's a good friend of mine and I've come to hopefully settle the debt she racked up last time we were here."<p>

It was true. Hawke planned on settling it either with money or with service. Since she'd been avoiding Anders lately, and Fenris had been avoiding her, this task seemed a good distraction from her recent emotional turmoil. "My friends and I appreciate what you're trying to do for mages here in Kirkwall, and we'd like to help."

"Merril?" Halbert said slowly. "Is that his name?" there was some strange sadness behind that monocle, and Hawke's smile fell as her suspicions started to rise.

"Him? You mean Fenris?"

"Yes. Fenris. The warrior." Halbert's shoulders sunk farther under the weight of guilt. "I'm so sorry…" He shook his head sadly at her as he trailed off. His guilty look set off little alarms, and cold dread began to settle into her veins.

"What aren't you saying?" she asked, suddenly full of worry. Fenris had been incredibly distant lately; vacant. Something was wrong. "What happened?"

Halbert wasn't shocked with the anger flashing behind the woman's eyes, but he was by the terror. She'd claimed to be the elf's friend, but was she something more? It was depressing to think his order had stolen not only the elf's freedom but also his love and irrevocably damned him to chains.

But something about the fierceness in her eyes, the wild fury emanating from her persuaded Halbert to forget his logic; made him believe the woman could achieve the impossible. She looked like she'd done it before. Perhaps there was a chance she could save the man she loved.

"What's wrong with Fenris?" she asked frantically as she took a dangerous step forward. And Halbert made up his mind. It was a stretch, but the possibility was there. If she were willing to face the danger, then Halbert would help her; it was the least he could do.

"The powder." Halbert said.

Images of Fenris's dusted face flitted through her thoughts and she shook her head. "He said he was fine. There were no side effects."

"You don't understand," he said gravely, "that powder was-"

The door crashed open behind them and an angry – and very wet – elf stalked in. Fenris wasted no time in rushing the mage and grabbing the front of his robes, bending him awkwardly to slam on a table. Various trinkets clattered to the floor, shattering into bits of glass as their magic was released. The elf's markings flared to life and Halbert's eyes widened in fear as he witnessed the phenomena for the first time.

"The powder!" Fenris snarled at him. "What was the powder?! What have you done to me!?" He was lost in his rage at that moment, blind in his fury and didn't notice Hawke behind him.

"Fenris?" her soft voice halted his wild mood, and wide eyes swung over his shoulder to her, his markings going dark with his surprise.

"Hawke?" her name was a gasp from his lips, and welcome after so long deprived of his voice. His eyes had dark circles beneath them, and his cheeks were hollower than usual. Still, despite his ragged appearance, she was glad to see him. "What are you doing here?" he asked as he shook his head, confused.

He didn't want her to see him like this; didn't want her to hear what the mage would tell him.

"No!" gasped Halbert, knowing the elf's intent. "Sh-She needs to hear this, elf. Your friends are your only hope now."

Fenris spun back to the man, baring his teeth feraly. "What are you talking about, mage?" he hissed, applying more pressure to the man's bent arm.

Watching him Hawke was shocked with the change that had overcome the elf. He was not the same controlled warrior she'd come to know; this man was raw and wild. And frightening.

Halbert was silent a moment as he considered how to phrase the damning news. "That powder… was a terrible curse," he choked out. "A magic dust designed to charm the person cursed by it. It is an ancient and strong magic, and has the ability to steal the will of the afflicted, enslaving them through devotion." He paused a moment, watching the news click into place behind the feral eyes staring him down. "It is also very specific, it will only bind the person it's made for to the mage who creates, or – in this case – the mage who ordered it."

Fenris couldn't find his breath as he frantically searched the captive man's guilty eyes for any hints of deception. "En-enslave?" he choked out. _Through devotion? But it's Hawke who haunts my dreams, and she would never…_

"So, it's a love curse?" Hawke asked, her tentative voice breaking his spiraling thoughts.

Slowly, Halbert nodded. "The afflicted will become infatuated with the person." he said gravely. "They will be unable to see anything beyond their bond's devotion; beyond their love. Ultimately, they will become a slave to their emotions, and thus a slave to the powder's maker."

"The cure…" Fenris rasped, trying to regain his tumbling emotions. "What's the cure?"

"I'm so sorry…" Halbert said, but Fenris slammed him back against the table.

"The cure!" he bellowed, beyond rage.

The devastation in Halbert's eyes was enough.

Fenris stumbled back from that gaze, reeling with the damning news as he released the mage. Wide eyes stared blindly at broken nobles' toys as he shook his head, unable to accept what he'd just been doomed to. "No…But the-the dreams…"

The released Halbert perked up immediately as he rubbed his aching arm. "Dreams?" he echoed. "What kinds of dreams?" he worked his monocle up to his eye in time to see the elf blush terribly and suddenly guilty green eyes dart to the woman beside them. "O… OO!" Halbert stood quickly. _That is good, very good! _Perhaps things were not as bad as he'd suspected.

But the woman's next question destroyed his rising mood. "Who ordered it?" she hissed quietly.

He could feel the force of the woman's rage darkened eyes, but he didn't turn away from the elf. _He already knows the answer._ He thought with a sigh. It was a terrible thing to know such people, even worse to know they were hunting you. Meeting the elf's stony eyes, he forced the name out. "Hadriana."

Fenris gave no outward signs that he recognized it, but as he stiffly turned away and headed for the door, Halbert knew he had.

"Who's Hadriana?" Hawke asked, but Fenris didn't answer. "Fenris?" she whispered, reaching for him as he passed.

"Don't touch me." He hissed as he shrugged her hand away and moved past her and out the door, her frantic calls echoing behind him.

Hawke hesitated for only a moment before she rushed after him, casting a confused glance at Halbert as she hurried out the door, shattered trinkets crunching beneath her boots.

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><p><strong>An<strong>:

The truth of the powder is revealed! But will Fenris beable to destroy his hunters, or will the curse destroy him?

Tune in next time to read: **Tears and Rain**

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><p><strong>If you enjoyed this chapter please review!<strong>

**I hope you like where this story is going! the twist is coming! It will get very twisted very soon. **

**... but fluffy twisted.**

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><p><strong>Reviewers:<strong>

**jugalettePENNER & oOo: **thank you for your comments! made me laugh! and yes, he'll get some - lots.

**LightsAurora: **You've been such a loyal watcher, I hope you weren't dissapointed with the powder's results.

**iRavenHearti: **I'm glad I was able to pull off a good Anders...that's kinda hard.

AND:** Halbert** has a stupid name because all great wizards have stupid names. Dumbledore, Gandolf, Merlin, Harry...I mean, no great wizard has had a **cool** name, those belong to the _evil _wizards, like Jafare, Rasputin, and Rumplestilskin...wait, no...that's stupid too.

anyways i thought up the stupidest name I could. because Halbert will be epic.

**thanks to all the other reviewers. **

**And thank you to the many people watching!**


	6. Tears and Rain

**Chapter 6 **

**Tears and Rain**

The cold rain stung at her skin and eyes. The staple dust of Kirkwall was turned to mud and the runoff made Hightown's back streets slick beneath her feet as she rushed after Fenris.

Hawke caught him as he entered a small private courtyard; secluded and quiet except for the pounding of the rain and her own heart echoing in her ears as she fell in step beside him. "Fenris?" she asked, but he stayed silent and kept walking, straightbacked and deathly quiet.

It was unnerving, this steady walk with no outward signs of emotion. Even though the elf was usually controlled and stoic, he'd never been so…vacant. Something was wrong. Her panic spiked.

"Fenris?" she reached for him, but he spun away from her touch and continued walking, his shoulders too tight. "What's wrong?" She reached for him again, but he pushed her hands away. He wouldn't look at her.

And that was when she realized.

He was leaving.

Not just walking to his mansion, not just avoiding her; he was leaving the city for good.

Her heart sank with the realization as her panic rose, choking her. Things weren't supposed to happen this way; she didn't want him to leave, didn't understand why he would. She stepped in front of him and shook her head. "No," she whispered, forcing the words past the lump forming in her throat. "You _can't_."

But he ignored her, stepping around her with his eyes hidden behind soaked bangs.

Frustrated and panicked she grabbed his wrist as he passed and held on as best she could as he tried to jerk his slippery gauntlet away from her grasp. "Why won't you look at me?"

He didn't want to look at her, didn't want to think of her ever again. Didn't want to remember her laugh or her smiles or the kiss on the riverbank. She was too close, it was too much. Fenris tried to tug his hand away but she held on too tight, wouldn't let him go; her small hands gripping his gauntleted wrist like pale little shackles.

Hawke was surprised when he rushed her, pushing her away forcefully. She stumbled back a few feet, slipping on the wet cobblestones. Scrambling she regained her balance, but her emotions couldn't find equilibrium. Over the past few years Fenris had become her protector, her friend; she didn't understand his sudden violence.

A stunned stillness fell over them.

They were both soaked; the rain fell in sheets from the roiling grey clouds and water was running over the cobblestones of the small courtyard in rivulets, completely submerging them in places. This storm had been building for a long time; it was releasing its fury now.

Hawke wrapped her arms about herself as she watched him intensely, shrinking away from the chill of the storm and her own cold dread. "What…" she started breathlessly. But anger steadied her and her whispered surprise became rage. "What the hell's wrong with you!"

And finally he looked at her, his feral glare so dark it forced her back a step. "You," he hissed.

* * *

><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

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><p>As quickly as they'd come, they were gone again, leaving Halbert to stand in his vacant little shop in the midst of his broken trinkets.<p>

But the mage didn't care for his broken merchandise at all.

What he'd told them was the truth. The powder was an irrevocable curse of slavery. An ancient magic; a lost magic. Only the most powerful of mages could create it, and Halbert was indeed powerful. There was no one in all of Thedas more specialized than he. The elf had indeed been damned when he'd been cursed with Halbert's spell.

If only Halbert had completed it.

Maybe he should have mentioned that.

He'd known that the powder would have slightly different effects when it was accidentally administered in an incomplete state. But he never could have hoped it would result in this. The elf should have been enslaved to Hadriana, but instead it seemed the horrible curse had just strengthened what was already there.

"Dreams, huh?" he asked the silent shop with a chuckle. And with a wave of a hand all of his broken toys were new again and stacked in their places for the nobles to buy.

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><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

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><p>Not in all the time she'd known him had she seen him so angry. Not even in his darkest hours had he been so feral; not even in those first few days had he seemed so out of reach.<p>

It frightened her.

"You are everything that is wrong!" he yelled. Shaking, he pointed accusingly at her, his eyes alive with hate. "All of your selfless deeds, all of those kind words; everything I thought you were; a lie!" He couldn't believe he'd trusted this woman; couldn't believe he'd fallen for her forked tongue just because of a few imagined kisses. "I should have known where your loyalties lied. I should have known never to trust the daughter of a _mage_." The word dripped like poison from his lips, foul and terrible.

"I don't understand…" she said quietly.

He scoffed at her. "How long have you been working for him? Since you chose Anders?"

"What?" she breathed, stunned. "Fenris, I never-"

"Or before that? Was you father in league with him? Bethany? I have to admit, it was a good plan. So impossible I didn't even see it coming. And I thought I knew all the tricks." He eyed her for a moment, a bitter smile twisting his handsome features sadistically, but his eyes were hollow. "You didn't even need the damned powder," he whispered ruefully, and suddenly his eyes stung with more than just the cold bite of spring rain.

He didn't know how to stand against this hurt; had never felt a pain so profound. His shoulders fell as he stepped back, trying to further the distance between them. Floundering he pushed words past his tightening throat. "You-You made me think…" His face twisted with inner turmoil. He'd hoped… "I thought I could trust you." He'd wanted… "I thought you were different, that you would never…That you…" He choked. He'd hoped he'd found a place, thought that maybe he and Hawke…"But all of it was a lie!" Water flew in little drops from his bangs as he shook his head violently, trying to deny the feelings of regret and devastating betrayal that threatened to drown him.

Hawke was shaking her head. "Fenris, what are you talking abou-?"

She was cut off by the elf's livid shout. "No!" he cried, enraged with the continued act. "Do not feign ignorance. You and Hadriana ordered this powder. Ordered this curse on me! How long have you been working for Danarius?"

The impact of that accusation knocked her back a step and knocked her breath away. "What?" she gasped, baffled by his blame. "Fenris, I didn't order that powder."

"Stop," he hissed quietly. The mage had told them that Hadriana had ordered the powder, but it was Hawke he was cursed to desire. She had to be working for Danarius; the evidence was too damning to believe otherwise.

"I don't even know who Hadriana is."

"Stop it," he said, his emotions were twisting him around. He wanted to believe her, wanted to forget this pain.

"Fenris," she said quietly as her warm brown eyes pled with him. "If Danarius comes for you we can defeat him." The elf shook his head. "You're free, and I plan to help you stay that way. I could neve-"

"Stop lying!" he roared. He shook with rage as his cry echoed through the rainy courtyard. He was still for a moment before he spun sharply and started walking away again; wanting to be away from her, wanting to forget the image of wet silk plastered to her shapely body as sad eyes stared out from under soaked bangs clinging to pale cheeks. Wanting to forget her treachery.

Hawke couldn't believe what was happening. Had she been a fool to think they'd grown close, was their bond truly so fragile that he could think she'd ever betray him? That he would leave her so readily?

Her anger rose at the insult, but even more potent was the rise of desperation and panic. She didn't want him to leave.

He couldn't.

"Fenris?" she couldn't just let him leave thinking that she'd betrayed him. Her feet started moving on the wet stones. "Fenris!" couldn't let him leave thinking she didn't care for him. She picked up speed running over the slick courtyard.

And tackled him.

The elf was taken by surprise when the small woman collided into his back, sending him sprawling on the slick stones as she fell atop him. The wind was knocked out of him as he fell and he was disoriented by the sudden attack. Frantically he twisted and fought against her, his instincts screaming that no one should be this close.

But Hawke fought back just as forcefully, finding holds on his armor as he tried to shove her away and pushing him back just as hard. For a moment they were a twisting mass of flailing arms, scrambling and slipping back down on the half submerged stones. He snarled feraly, lost in his rage as he tried to disentangle himself from her. Twisting around he tried to shove her away, but the quick rogue moved with him. Suddenly she was above him, straddling him with her long legs as he tried to squirm away from her.

Fenris became even more frantic to get away. Clinging silk left no curve hidden as she pressed against him. It was images and sensations that his cursed dreams didn't need as fuel. He didn't want the feelings that washed over him as she gripped his shoulders and leaned forward.

And before he knew what was happening she was kissing him, hard. Her fingers gripped at his armor and as her lips moved against his in desperate passion he forgot why he needed to get away from her.

Forgot everything. At that moment there was only Hawke and the feelings her lips against his inspired.

Fenris had never been kissed, not like this. The plush but forceful press of her full lips was overwhelming and he lost himself in the frantic and demanding rhythm she set. Each move she made sent jolts of pleasure through him, shocking him with her intensity and setting his blood on fire. She took advantage of his protesting sigh, sneaking her tongue to possessively curl about his own, turning his soft breath into a gasp of pleasure.

This was better than anything he could have imagined, better than anything his dreams had shown him. Ten times better then the chaste kiss on the river bank. This was all so new to him and though it was tinged with desperation and panic, it hinted at an intimacy and tenderness that he hadn't thought possible. Spoke of desire that wasn't just physical. Fenris shuddered and groaned as delicate hands tugged forcefully at his armor as she pressed against him, pulling him closer.

Instinctively his hands rose to her hips, her cold wet clothing in drastic contrast to the heat spreading through him. She had complete control, and Fenris didn't know what do with himself, didn't understand how to react to this onslaught of emotion and physical desire. Tentatively, he started to kiss her back, answering the press of her lips with his own, and was rewarded with a soft sigh. It shot through him with a primal intensity awakening a wild desire that sent him reeling.

Gaining confidence he rose to meet her forceful demands, echoing the motions of her tongue, starting a battle for dominance. Gently he slid his hands from her hips to wrap his arms around her back, drawing her closer still, until there was no space between them; until the only thing separating them was her silk and his armor. He didn't like that. Fenris wanted more; wanted to feel the heat of her against him.

For the first time in his life, he wanted to feel the touch of skin on skin.

And suddenly her lips weren't on his anymore. Gently she kissed the corner of his mouth, kissed his high cheekbones, his forehead, his nose, his chin. Breathlessly he clung to her, trying to understand the change in pace; trying to regain some semblance of balance after such a shock to his equilibrium. Confused and indescribably disappointed he searched out her eyes.

His desire fled him when he saw her tears. Slowly he pulled away from her, worried that he'd unknowingly done something wrong. Had he hurt her somehow as he'd lost himself to that unknown passion? He gripped her arms cloaked in soaked silk gently as she continued to kiss him, trying to still her.

Her cheeks were wet with rain, and he wouldn't have known it was tears clinging to her lashes if more hadn't been standing precariously in her too bright eyes. "Hawke?" he whispered, his voice husky.

A pained whine escaped her terrifying him, and he tried to pull away to see what was wrong. But she gripped his shoulders and kept him close. "Please, Fenris," he couldn't stop the shiver that echoed down his spine at the sensation of her breath fluttering over his lips. "Please don't leave."

And all at once everything came crashing down around him. Her betrayal, their fight, the Curse. Suddenly the moment of new sensations and ecstasy felt twisted, warped. Had he been reacting to the passion, or had that just been another effect of the powder? He couldn't breathe with the force of his disappointment.

"I promise you," she continued, her voice trembling. "I didn't order that curse. And I would never help Danarius. My loyalty belongs to you, Fenris. I swear it." When he didn't answer she whined again, and he felt a rough sob wrack her frame. "Please, please believe me."

He wanted to, more than anything. But he couldn't know if he actually did, or if his trust was just because of the curse.

As he remained silent and more tears mixed with rain down her flushed cheeks, Hawke moved her lips to his ear and whispered soft words that stole his breath as surely as her kiss.

"I love you."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong>

Will Fenris regain his trust in Hawke? Or will his doubts destroy him?

Tune in next time to read: **Offers**

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><p>Thank you for reading this. I hope you enjoyed it.<p>

If you did** please review.**

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><p><strong>Reviewers:<strong>

no. the confessional scene was not meant to bash catholicism.

**JustAReader:** no...i have a clear idea of what i'm writing everything is already pre-planned.

**WingedHourglass**: yeah, it'll be fully explained soon. a little mystery adds tension though.

thank you **Tasha, PollyandPony, HeavyMetalLover, MaryGolden, StarGazer177, LightAurora, Jamey, iRavenHearti, oOo, Medusa Davenport**, and everyone else who didn't log in, (including you smartassanon!)

your continuing support is overwhelming and i greatly appreciate it.


	7. Offers

**Chapter 7**

**Offers**

Fenris sat silently by the warm fire in Hawke's bedroom, trying to ignore the rustle of cloth as the young woman dressed behind a screen. The taste of her still clung to his lips and the gentle whisper of half dry silk did nothing to erase images and feelings he didn't want at the moment. So he kept his gaze fixed on the dancing flame and tried to focus on the many questions running through his head and not the passion in his veins.

He was failing miserably.

As she unhooked her breast band Hawke watched him curiously through a crack in the screen. He'd been extremely quiet since their kiss in the courtyard hours before. If it hadn't been for his eager response she would have thought this mysterious silence was one of regret; but he'd been far more than fervent in accepting her attentions.

That kiss had been everything a kiss should be, everything she'd ever wanted from a man. He'd been hesitant at first and Hawke would bet everything that that had been his first real kiss. But once he'd caught on his response had been powerful, overwhelming. He was so feral, so raw. So _right._ No man before him could compare to that short moment of unbridled passion.

_And he accused me of choosing Anders_. She snorted quietly as she draped her wet clothes along the top of the dressing screen. Fenris's voice as he'd hurled that accusation still haunted her. The mage was kind and passionate, but their drunken kiss couldn't compare; Anders couldn't compare. Where the man was perfectly civilized, only forced out of society because of his power, Fenris was feral, untamed, a part of that primal world of instinct and reaction.

Hawke liked that.

She just didn't like his trust issues.

But after tonight she would make sure the elf would have no more doubts. He wouldn't accuse her of betraying him to any damned magister, and certainly wouldn't believe she'd chosen Anders.

If she could only work up the courage. Hawke was a bold young woman, courageous and strong. But Fenris had a knack for making her nervous and looking down at herself she suddenly felt silly, noticing the flaws along her skin, the bruises already showing from their earlier tussle. Lightly she ran the tips of her fingers along the new discolorations and shivered at the sensation of her own touch. He wouldn't want to see them, she knew. The little patches of blackening flesh would make him feel guilty, would sully their moment. She thought for a moment of just forgetting about this, of just sitting by the fire with him and carrying on as they always had.

But this was what she wanted. _He_ was what she wanted. She'd cared for him for so long, and after learning of his many doubts now seemed the perfect time to show him. Acutely aware of what she was about to do and of the elf she was about to do it with she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves as butterflies danced in her stomach. Keeping the memory of his eager response to her kiss close as reassurance she took another breath to gather her courage and stepped out.

"Fenris?" he stiffened at her call, sitting straighter in his chair by the fire. She waited for a moment for him to answer, but he didn't turn around. Hawke pursed her lips in annoyance. Patience had never been her virtue, and now that she planned on doing very un-virtuous things, it fled her completely. If he wouldn't come to her, she would go to him.

He heard her quiet footsteps over the plush rug. "Fenris, what I said earlier wasn't a lie." Her voice was low, a purr that held too much promise; a promise of something he wasn't ready for yet. Despite his hesitancy his instincts reacted to that promise, igniting a slow burn in his veins as he listened to her approach, the near silent footsteps as she moved closer.

"If you're willing," Another step closer, but he was too afraid to turn and face her. "Then I want to show you just how much I lo- What the hell!" Her seductive voice suddenly jumped several pitches, and the startling change jolted him out of his frozen uncertainty.

He spun in his chair as Hawke squealed and practically dove back behind her screen. But not before he caught a glimpse of very long – very bare – legs. The teasing sight of her delicate ankles, her shapely calves and thin thighs wreaked havoc on his mind. The chair crashed over as he stood quickly, as he tried distractedly to look anywhere but where she'd been.

What he found was another – unwelcome – shock. Halbert stood just off to the side of room smiling like a mad man.

Sounds behind the screen didn't seem as seductive this time as Hawke struggled behind it, knocking and banging into things. _Had she been… naked?_ The thought of what she wasn't wearing and what she'd been about to say upset his already off balance emotions and he struggled to shake the image as he stared at the mage, unsure of what to do in this situation.

"I'm terribly sorry!" the man laughed. "I've given you several hours. I thought you two would be done by now." It took a few moments for his shocked mind to process the insinuation, and realize that whatever he'd just seen, Halbert had seen more.

Without another thought Fenris rushed him, grabbing the front of his robes and slamming the intruder against the wall. The impact stole the smile off the older man's face and knocked the wind out of him. The idea of some sniveling mage stealing glances of Hawke while she was…vulnerable sparked an all consuming anger that Fenris had never experienced. The same terrible instinct that had made him jump into a raging river flared along with his markings, and the sudden unnatural light illuminated the elf's feral snarl.

Fenris was very capable and very ready to kill this man.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" Hawke's shrill question stayed his hand for just a moment, but it was all the time Halbert needed and with a sudden pop he was no longer in Fenris's grasp.

Fenris spun about at Hawke's squeak, to find the mage at the other side of the room. And to watch the woman finish tying a silky robe shut. A robe which did nothing to cover her still very bare legs. Heat that didn't have anything to do with anger burned through his body and he forced himself to focus purely on the not-as-appealing middle aged mage, watching the man darkly as he stepped in front of Hawke, trying to hide her from view.

Frowning Hawke tried to move around the elf, ready and eager to confront the mage, but Fenris moved with her, keeping the young woman behind him. She huffed at him and tried to push him aside, but the stony faced warrior shook his head and stayed in front, trying to keep her back without actually touching the tantalizingly half clothed woman. "What are you doing?" she hissed at him. He didn't answer. "Stop being a fool, Fenris." But he just shook his head again, keeping his gaze locked on the man before them and his lips shut tight.

Raising his hands in supplication Halbert chuckled at the elf's antics. "I'm sorry! It wasn't my intention to intrude, truly."

"Then what was your_ intention_?" spat the annoyed woman as she continued to try to get around the strong warrior. "It's a rare thing that breaking into someone's private rooms is a result of _good_ intentions."

Halbert hummed in acquiescence. "True. But I am the exception to that rule." He paused for a moment, placing his monocle to his eye and noting the determination and fierceness in the pairs' eyes. They were a good match, and knowing so steeled the man's resolve. "I've come to enlighten you about the curse," he said, "and perhaps offer my aid, if you're willing to accept."

"Offer your help!" Hawke cried. This mage had cursed the man she cared for, had broken into her house, seen her naked, and now he wanted to help? "You're mad!" She pointed accusingly at him over Fenris's shoulder. "_You_ were the one who created this curse in the first place! _You_ filled the order!"

Halbert raised an eyebrow at the woman's ferocity; _so much spirit in such a delicate creature. _He only hoped her strength would be enough to carry them through the trials ahead. "I didn't," he stated somberly.

The woman openly scoffed at him. "Really? I recall your story being much different earlier."

Halbert grinned weakly and ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Yes. Well...I didn't _complete_ it. Changes things entirely, you know?"

Eyes tightening, Hawke glared at him over Fenris's armored shoulder, but waited silently for him to explain.

"The effects of an incomplete spell will be different; warped." The heavily accented man locked eyes with Fenris. "You spoke earlier of dreams?"

Fenris darkened incredibly at that question. It wasn't something he wanted to answer, especially not to a mage, and most definitely not under Hawke's suddenly intense scrutiny. Dreading what the man would say next he steeled himself and nodded jerkily.

"That is good." Halbert said reassuringly. "I believe that because the curse was incomplete, it merely strengthened what was already there. If the powder was administered in a completed state you would be irrevocably bound to the orderer - Hadriana. But, you received an imperfect dosage." He paused for a moment to let the elf digest this new development. "And instead you've been bound to another."

"If the curse was unfinished, does that mean you can cure it?" The woman peered at him from behind the elf, her dark eyes full of hope.

Grimly Halbert shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, but the end result will still be the same. I cannot reverse it."

"You mean I'll be…" Fenris tried to push the words past his suddenly tight throat, but he couldn't finish the damning statement.

"A slave?" Halbert said softly. "Yes. If love is considered slavery. But from what I've seen you were shackled long before you came into my shop. All this curse did was turn your affection for this woman into obsession."

Obsession. Fenris thought that an adequate description. Even if it was unwanted, the thought of her invaded every waking moment and the fantasy of her invaded his dreams. He shot a quick glance at Hawke, eyes full of suspicion.

The young woman missed it, but Halbert caught the gist of what the elf was thinking and smiled sadly. "She had nothing to do with this, elf. This bond was one completely of your choosing."

Glare darkening, Fenris took a dangerous step towards the mage. "Are you saying I chose this fate?" he spat, his voice rising with his words. "Chose slavery?!"

To his irritation Halbert's rumbling laugh answered him. "Maker, no! But I am saying you should enjoy this while it lasts. You are bound to a woman you care deeply for; one that cares deeply for you. There is something good to be found in that, no?"

The mage's insight cut off Fenris's next accusation, snapping the elf's mouth shut.

"Is there nothing we can do?" Asked Hawke softly.

Halbert's face cracked into a mischievous grin as he eyed the warrior before him. "Well, I suppose you could always act out your dreams. That might lesson the potency of the effects." Fenris shifted, extremely uncomfortable; the mage seemed to find some macabre humor in the elf's embarrassment. "But, no." he continued. "I can do nothing to stop the side effects."

A long silence stretched, filling the room with its hollow weight.

"I can't exactly say you are a lucky man," Halbert eventually said. "But you have escaped a damning fate." Tentatively he took an awkward step towards the pair becoming serious and hushed. "You must hope your luck continues. Dark forces are coming to Kirkwall – have been here for many years. You know of whom I speak. They will come for you soon, elf, and there will be no escaping their tricks this time. Your only hope will be to defeat them, and the only way to do so will be to trust in those you call friends."

Fenris was silent in the face of this grim warning. The warm room seemed to grow darker with his words, and what once offered comfort felt more like a cage; too constricting, stifling. The slight pressure of Hawke's delicate fingers weaving into his armored fingers shocked him, drawing him away from his spiraling emotions.

Noticing the woman's gesture Halbert stepped closer and locked eyes with the elf urgently. "Do not trust your mind, your thoughts. Trust only in this." He said, pointing to where Hawke held him. The strong set of the elf's jaw was all the answer the mage needed.

Nodding in approval as he stepped away the mage snapped through the tension with a startling clap of his hands. "Well that's it." He said with a wide smile. "I've told you all I can for now. I must leave this city quickly, but I will come to you again soon." He gave a horrible little wink at Hawke. "And next time I'll try to remember to dress_ inappropriately_!"

And with another pop he vanished again, leaving Hawke huffing angrily and cursing under her breath.

But annoyance at the departed mage left her as she noticed Fenris's somber mood. The darkness lurking in his downcast expression bothered her deeply; there was a shadow of hatred and pain that always accompanied one man's name.

"Is it Danarius?" she asked hesitantly. A slow nod was her answer; an answer she'd hoped against. She didn't know what to say to him, didn't know how to offer the kind of comfort he would need. Looking down at their interlocked fingers she gave his cold gloves a little reassuring squeeze, making a silent show of her support and hoping he understood.

Even if he still wasn't used to her closeness, even if her gentle touch was still foreign and strange to him, it was what Fenris needed in that moment, and he was grateful. The direness of Halbert's warning was consuming. He knew who was coming. He'd both hoped for and dreaded this moment for years. The weight of the situation sat heavily on the elf's shoulders, but the feather light pressure of Hawke's fingers was a welcome distraction.

It was a pleasant sensation, despite the separation from direct contact, and gave him a comfort he wasn't familiar with. But the soft pressure of her delicate but strong hold inevitably conjured memories of how her hands had clung to him earlier, of their kiss.

Suddenly her comfort was a bit too distracting, her nearness too suggestive. They were so close, so alone, in her private quarters. Fenris cleared his throat as his equilibrium suddenly shifted."We should... probably retire for the night," he said softly. She nodded silently and he started to move away from her, eager to escape the press of her warmth, of his want.

But her fingers tightened on his, stopping him. Maybe she was being foolish, but in that moment Hawke believed the best comfort she could offer was exactly what she'd planned to do earlier. As he turned to her questioningly she boldly met his eyes, and then looked suggestively to her over sized bed, making sure he understood her intentions.

Hawke knew Fenris well, and she expected him to be shy, hesitant at first; just like with their kiss. What she didn't expect was the sudden wide eyed stillness that overtook him at her insinuation.

Hawke's offer terrified him. Perhaps the mage had been telling the truth; perhaps she hadn't ordered this curse.

But now she knew of his cursed obsession, of his dreams. And Fenris didn't know if she wanted him because she truly cared for him or because she'd realized he couldn't say no. There was not much that frightened the stoic elf, but the idea of the woman he trusted taking advantage of the situation, of her using his own want against him drained the blood from his face. That would be a truly damning betrayal.

Realizing she'd made a mistake Hawke released his hand immediately and took a step back. Her forced smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she laughed sheepishly. "Sorry. Sorry, I just…" Shaking her head she sighed heavily and took another step away. "Just forget that. Goodnight Fenris."

He nodded jerkily, still unnaturally pale, and stiffly moved to the door, tossing a quiet goodnight back to her as he hurriedly left.

The young woman was not aware of the elf's uncertainties and doubts, and in the reverberating silence as the door shut behind him, his unspoken refusal seemed more a rejection than cautious self preservation. The fake smile fell from her lips as quickly as her hopes plummeted. Her eyes stung bitterly. She loved him, more than he could know, but as he left her there Hawke came to a devastating conclusion.

Fenris was cursed to love, but it seemed that he wasn't cursed to love her.

Fenris sat silently by the warm fire in Hawke's bedroom, trying to ignore the rustle of cloth as the young woman dressed behind a screen. The taste of her still clung to his lips and the gentle whisper of half dry silk did nothing to erase images and feelings he didn't want at the moment. So he kept his gaze fixed on the dancing flame and tried to focus on the many questions running through his head and not the passion in his veins.

He was failing miserably.

As she unhooked her breast band Hawke watched him curiously through a crack in the screen. He'd been extremely quiet since their kiss in the courtyard hours before. If it hadn't been for his eager response she would have thought this mysterious silence was one of regret; but he'd been far more than fervent in accepting her attentions.

That kiss had been everything a kiss should be, everything she'd ever wanted from a man. He'd been hesitant at first and Hawke would bet everything that that had been his first real kiss. But once he'd caught on his response had been powerful, overwhelming. He was so feral, so raw. So _right._ No man before him could compare to that short moment of unbridled passion.

_And he accused me of choosing Anders_. She snorted quietly as she draped her wet clothes along the top of the dressing screen. The mage was kind and passionate, but their drunken kiss couldn't compare; Anders couldn't compare. Where the man was perfectly civilized, only forced out of society because of his power, Fenris was feral, untamed, a part of that primal world of instinct and reaction.

Hawke liked that.

She just didn't like his trust issues.

But after tonight she would make sure the elf would have no more doubts. He wouldn't accuse her of betraying him to any damned magister, and certainly wouldn't believe she'd chosen Anders.

If she could only work up the courage. Hawke was a bold young woman, curageous and strong. But Fenris had a knack for making her nervous and looking down at herself she suddenly felt silly, noticing the flaws along her skin, the bruises already showing from their earlier tossel. Lightly she ran the tips of her fingers along the new discolorations and shivered at the sensation of her own touch. Acutely aware of what she was about to do and of the elf she was about to do it with she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves as butterflies danced in her stomach.

But this was what she wanted. _He_ was what she wanted. She'd cared for him for so long, and after learning of his many doubts now seemed the perfect time to show him. Keeping the memory of his eager response to her kiss close as reassurance she took another breath to gather her courage and stepped out.

"Fenris?" he stiffened at her call, sitting straighter in his chair by the fire. She waited for a moment for him to answer, but he didn't turn around. Hawke pursed her lips in annoyance. Patience had never been her virtue, and now that she planned on doing very un-virtuous things, it fled her completely. If he wouldn't come to her, she would go to him.

He heard her quiet footsteps over the plush rug. "Fenris, what I said earlier wasn't a lie." Her voice was low, a purr that held too much promise; a promise of something he wasn't ready for yet. Despite his hesitancy his instincts reacted to that promise, igniting a slow burn in his veins as he listened to her approach, the gentle swish of fabric as she moved closer.

"If you're willing," Another step closer, but he was too afraid to turn and face her. "Then I want to show you just how much I lo- What the hell!" Her seductive voice suddenly jumped several pitches, and the startling change jolted him out of his frozen uncertainty.

He spun in his chair as Hawke squealed and practically dove back behind her screen. But not before he caught a glimpse of very long – very bare – legs. The teasing sight of her delicate ankles, her shapely calves and thin thighs wreaked havoc on his mind. The chair crashed over as he stood quickly, as he tried distractedly to look anywhere but where she'd been.

What he found was another – unwelcome – shock. Halbert stood just off to the side of room smiling like a mad man.

Sounds behind the screen didn't seem as seductive this time as Hawke struggled behind it, knocking and banging into things. _Had she been… naked?_ The thought of what she wasn't wearing and what she'd been about to say upset his already off balance emotions and he struggled to shake the image as he stared at the mage, unsure of what to do in this situation.

"I'm terribly sorry!" the man laughed. "I've given you several hours. I thought you two would be done by now." It took a few moments for his shocked mind to process the insinuation, and realize that whatever he'd just seen, Halbert had seen more.

Without another thought Fenris rushed him, grabbing the front of his robes and slamming the intruder against the wall. The impact stole the smile off the older man's face and knocked the wind out of him. The idea of some sniveling mage stealing glances of Hawke while she was…vulnerable sparked an all consuming anger that Fenris had never experienced. The same terrible instinct that had made him jump into a raging river flared along with his markings, and the sudden unnatural light illuminated the elf's feral snarl.

Fenris was very capable and very ready to kill this man.

"What the hell are you doing here!" Hawke's shrill question stayed his hand for just a moment, but it was all the time Halbert needed and with a sudden pop he was no longer in Fenris's grasp.

Fenris spun about at Hawke's squeak, to find the mage at the other side of the room. And to watch the woman finish tying a silky robe shut. A robe which did nothing to cover her still very bare legs. Heat that didn't have anything to do with anger burned his cheeks and he forced himself to focus purely on the not-as-appealing middle aged mage, watching the man darkly as he stepped in front of Hawke, trying to hide her from view.

Frowning Hawke tried to move around the elf, ready and eager to confront the mage, but Fenris moved with her, keeping the young woman behind him. She huffed at him and tried to push him aside, but the stony faced warrior shook his head and stayed in front, trying to keep her back without actually touching the tantalizingly half clothed woman. "What are you doing?" she hissed at him. He didn't answer. "Stop being a fool, Fenris." But he just shook his head again, keeping his gaze locked on the man before them and his lips shut tight.

Raising his hands in supplication Halbert chuckled at the elf's antics. "I'm sorry! It wasn't my intention to intrude, truly."

"Then what was your_ intention_?" spat the annoyed woman as she continued to try to get around the strong warrior. "It's a rare thing that breaking into someone's private rooms is a result of _good_ intentions."

Halbert hummed in acquiescence. "True. But I am the exception to that rule." He paused for a moment, placing his monocle to his eye and noting the determination and fierceness in the pairs' eyes. They were a good match, and knowing so steeled the man's resolve. "I've come to enlighten you about the curse," he said, "and perhaps offer my aid, if you're willing to accept."

"Offer your help!" Hawke cried. This mage had cursed the man she cared for, had broken into her house, seen her naked, and now he wanted to help? "You're mad!" She pointed accusingly at him over Fenris shoulder. "_You_ were the one who created this curse in the first place! _You_ filled the order!"

Halbert raised an eyebrow at the woman's ferocity; _so much spirit in such a delicate creature. _He only hoped her strength would be enough to carry them through the trials ahead. "I didn't," he stated somberly.

The woman openly scoffed at him. "Really? I recall your story being much different earlier."

Halbert grinned weakly and ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Yes. Well...I didn't _complete_ it. Changes things entirely, you know?"

Eyes tightening, Hawke glared at him over Fenris's armored shoulder, but waited silently for him to explain.

"The effects of an incomplete spell will be different; warped." The heavily accented man locked eyes with Fenris. "You spoke earlier of dreams?"

Fenris darkened incredibly at that question. It wasn't something he wanted to answer, especially not to a mage, and most definitely not under Hawke's suddenly intense scrutiny. Dreading what the man would say next he steeled himself and nodded jerkily.

"That is good." Halbert said reassuringly. "I believe that because the curse was incomplete, it merely strengthened what was already there. If the powder was administered in a completed state you would be irrevocably bound to the orderer - Hadriana. But, you received an imperfect dosage." He paused for a moment to let the elf digest this new development. "And instead you've been bound to another."

"If the curse was unfinished, does that mean you can cure it?" The woman peered at him from behind the elf, her dark eyes full of hope.

Grimly Halbert shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, but the end result will still be the same. I cannot reverse it."

"You mean I'll be…" Fenris tried to push the words past his suddenly tight throat, but he couldn't finish the damning statement.

"A slave?" Halbert said softly. "Yes. If love is considered slavery. But from what I've seen you were shackled long before you came into my shop. All this curse did was turn your affection for this woman into obsession."

Obsession. Fenris thought that an adequate description. Even if it was unwanted, the thought of her invaded every waking moment and the fantasy of her invaded his dreams. He shot a quick glance at Hawke, eyes full of suspicion.

The young woman missed it, but Halbert caught the gist of what the elf was thinking and smiled sadly. "She had nothing to do with this, elf. This bond was one completely of your choosing."

Glare darkening, Fenris took a dangerous step towards the mage. "Are you saying I chose this fate?" he spat, his voice rising with his words. "Chose slavery?"

To his irritation Halbert's rumbling laugh answered him. "Maker, no! But I am saying you should enjoy this while it lasts. You are bound to a woman you care deeply for; one that cares deeply for you. There is something good to be found in that, no?"

The mage's insight cut off Fenris's next accusation, snapping the elf's mouth shut.

"Is there nothing we can do?" Asked Hawke softly.

Halbert's face cracked into a mischievous grin as he eyed the warrior before him. "Well, I suppose you could always act out your dreams. That might lesson the potency of the effects." Fenris shifted, extremely uncomfortable; the mage seemed to find some macabre humor in the elf's embarrassment. "But, no." he continued. "I can do nothing to stop the side effects."

A long silence stretched, filling the room with its hollow weight.

"I can't exactly say you are a lucky man," Halbert eventually said. "But you have escaped a damning fate." Tentatively he took an awkward step towards the pair becoming serious and hushed. "You must hope your luck continues. Dark forces are coming to Kirkwall – have been here for many years. You know of whom I speak. They will come for you soon, elf, and there will be no escaping their tricks this time. Your only hope will be to defeat them, and the only way to do so will be to trust in those you call friends."

Fenris was silent in the face of this grim warning. The warm room seemed to grow darker with his words, and what once offered comfort felt more like a cage; too constricting, stifling. The slight pressure of Hawke's delicate fingers weaving into his own shocked him, drawing him away from his spiraling emotions.

Noticing the woman's gesture Halbert stepped closer and locked eyes with the elf urgently. "Do not trust your mind, your thoughts. Trust only in this." He said, pointing to their intertwined fingers. The strong set of the elf's jaw was all the answer the mage needed.

Nodding in approval as he stepped away the mage snapped through the tension with a startling clap of his hands. "Well that's it." He said with a wide smile. "I've told you all I can for now. I must leave this city quickly, but I will come to you again soon." He gave a horrible little wink at Hawke. "And next time I'll try to remember to dress_ inappropriately_!"

And with another pop he vanished again, leaving Hawke huffing angrily and cursing under her breath.

But annoyance at the departed mage left her as she noticed Fenris's somber mood. The darkness lurking in his downcast expression bothered her deeply; there was a shadow of hatred and pain that always accompanied one man's name.

"Is it Danarius?" she asked hesitantly. A slow nod was her answer; an answer she'd hoped against. She didn't know what to say to him, didn't know how to offer the kind of comfort he would need. Looking down at their interlocked fingers she gave a little reassuring squeeze, making a silent show of her support and hoping he understood.

Even if he still wasn't used to her closeness, even if her gentle touch was still foreign and strange to him, it was what Fenris needed in that moment, and he was grateful. The direness of Halbert's warning was consuming. He knew who was coming. He'd both hoped for and dreaded this moment for years. The weight of the situation sat heavily on the elf's shoulders, but the feather light caress of Hawke's fingers was a welcome distraction.

As her fingers stayed curled about his, her thumb moving in soothing little circles on the back of his hand, his thoughts drifted further away from mages and dark memories. It was a pleasant sensation, and gave him a comfort he wasn't familiar with. But her soft ministrations over his bare skin inevitably conjured memories of how her hands had clung to him earlier, of their kiss.

Suddenly her comfort was a bit too distracting, her nearness too suggestive. They were so close, so alone, in her private quarters. Fenris cleared his throat as his equilibrium suddenly shifted."We should... probably retire for the night," he said softly. She nodded silently and he started to move away from her, eager to escape the press of her warmth, of his want.

But her fingers tightened on his, stopping him. Maybe she was being foolish, but in that moment Hawke believed the best comfort she could offer was exactly what she'd planned to do earlier. As he turned to her questioningly she boldly met his eyes, and then looked suggestively to her over sized bed, making sure he understood her intentions.

Hawke knew Fenris well, and she expected him to be shy, hesitant at first; just like with their kiss. What she didn't expect was the sudden wide eyed stillness that overtook him at her insinuation.

Hawke's offer terrified him. Perhaps the mage had been telling the truth, perhaps she hadn't ordered this curse. But now she knew of his cursed obsession, of his dreams. And Fenris didn't know if she wanted him because she truly cared for him or because she'd realized he couldn't say no. There was not much that frightened the stoic elf, but the idea of the woman he trusted taking advantage of the situation, of her using his own want against him drained the blood from his face. That would be a truly damning betrayal.

Realizing she'd made a mistake Hawke released his hand immediately and took a step back. Her forced smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she laughed sheepishly. "Sorry. Sorry, I just…" Shaking her head she sighed heavily she took another step away. "Just forget that. Goodnight Fenris."

He nodded jerkily, still unnaturally pale, and stiffly moved to the door, tossing a quiet goodnight to her as he hurridly left.

The young woman was not aware of the elf's uncertainties and doubts, and in the reverberating silence as the door shut behind him, his unspoken refusal seemed more a rejection than cautious self preservation. The fake smile fell from her lips as quickly as her hopes plummeted. Her eyes stung bitterly. She loved him, more than he could know, but as he left her there Hawke came to a devastating conclusion.

Fenris was cursed to love, but it seemed that he wasn't cursed to love her.

* * *

><p><strong>An:<strong>

Will Hawke realize her mistake? And will Fenris be able to overcome his doubts?

...probably not in the next chapter.

tune in next time to read: **Insideous**

* * *

><p>if you enjoyed this chapter please review!<p>

this chapter was very hard for me to write. I second-guessed myself a lot, and had a hard time keeping the flow smooth. please let me know if you can offer any improvements.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviwers:<strong>

**My dog is alive! he's still sick, but he's doing much better. thank you for all of your concern and well wishes!**

**sorry for the long wait on this update. **

**Stargazer177:** my dog has been my best friend for 12 years, and your short sentiment meant a lot to me when i was in a very sad place. thank you.

thanks to:** 3, Daria, Stargazer177, Crystal Night, MaryGolden, JustAReader, Medusa Davenport, iRavenHearti, SorchaCahill, kileyB108, WarWolf, Tasha, LightsAurora, and Trala La **for all of your support!


	8. Insideous

**Chapter 8**

**Insideous**

She'd said to forget, but he couldn't.

Couldn't forget the sight of her shapely legs, the soft purr of her voice, those dark eyes as she'd silently asked him to stay with her; Fenris could never forget her offer.

Because no offer had ever been so appealing to him in his life, and yet so terrifying.

He couldn't shake the want it'd inspired. Even though he'd known he had to say no, even though he knew Hawke was with Anders, even though he knew this lust was just a side-effect of the Curse, he'd wanted so desperately to say yes. His thoughts and emotions were left in shambles, thrown into chaos with a simple look, a quick glance to a plush bed, and ideas of what could have happened if he'd stayed kept him awake long after he left her, kept him pacing the small space of the guest room restlessly for hours.

As plush carpet gave beneath his quiet steps a dark understanding haunted him. Hawke was a sharp woman, and even though Halbert -damn that mage! - had said nothing outright, Fenris didn't believe for a second that she hadn't caught on. She'd understood who he was Cursed to love, that he would become a slave to that love. And that's exactly what her offer had been; an offer to a slave, one she'd known he couldn't refuse.

He'd hoped that she'd meant something with that offer; wanted her to reach for him with more than just physical lust. But there'd been no compassion behind her proposition; whatever her actions had hinted at in the past was erased now.

She'd never cared for him; she'd just found a use for him.

After all the trust he'd placed in her, after all the years of silent affection, she'd only ever thought of him as a slave?

The realization was devastating; it broke something that he hadn't realized had been there, left him hollow, eating away at the ache left in the wake of seeing her with Anders. Hawke had been the culmination of all his ideals, ones that he'd almost given up hope on finding in this world. She was so free, so kind and untainted by the magic and hate that festered in his skin and in his heart. To lose faith in her was like learning everything he'd ever believed in, everything he'd ever fought for was a lie. It set a festering sickness in his gut and eventually his steps slowed and grew heavy with weariness borne of more than just lack of sleep.

Maybe it would be better if he just left, went out on his own again as a wanderer and a fugitive. He could just leave her – and this disappointment - behind him. Forget about all of this.

But he was just so damn tired.

With a heavy sigh he sank down onto the plush couch facing the fire, his hopes plummeting as surely as he did. Leaning back he fixed his distant gaze on the fire, though he never really saw the flames. And as they danced eerily with shadows, writhing in some twisting of duel darkness and light a sinister thought crept in.

Would it be so bad to be used?

All his life he'd believed that there had to be something more than just the evil he'd witnessed, more than just slaves and masters. But that hope was a lie, everything he'd ever believed in was a lie. No matter how far he ran, or how hard he fought, he would never be free. Because people were all the same, they cared nothing for others unless they could get something they wanted. He'd thought Hawke was different, a rarity among the evil of this world, but he'd been wrong. She'd only cared because he was useful.

So why not get what he wanted in the process?

Normally the idea would appall him. As soon as he'd gotten free of Danarius he'd shunned touch, and he'd certainly never allowed anyone close enough to be intimate. But the thought of her soft skin beneath his fingers, her plush lips against his own, the pleasure he knew Hawke could give outweighed that fear.

And besides, she wanted him. Even if it was just for a night, couldn't that be glorious? When all he'd ever known was pain and desperation, wouldn't giving into the want of a beautiful woman for just one moment be excusable?

He certainly thought so.

It was a shocking realization and sitting a bit straighter, he tried to dismiss the idea as just a brief lapse of judgment. But as his thoughts continued to spiral, he couldn't shake the sentiment. He knew that his want was inspired by magic, but at the moment he didn't really care. A month of haunting dreams, of unsated desire did that to a person. But even if he were serious about this, he'd left her already, and a scorned woman would never accept an apology so readily.

_Or would she?_

He was only two doors away from finding out.

He sat there for a moment longer, at war with himself and full of indecision. But his choice seemed inevitable. She wanted him, he wanted her. There was no valid reason why they shouldn't be together. And so with a speed born of his desperate desire he rushed out of the guest room, and back down the hall.

Silently he slipped through her door, not bothering to knock, shutting it behind him with a quiet click of wood as he leaned against it. And there she was, sitting on a plush ottoman before the fire, her hair down and catching the warm light, long legs left bare by the infuriatingly short robe.

She was exactly as he'd left her; she'd known he'd come back. She'd known she would win.

With a frustrated growl he shoved off from the door and rushed her as she met him halfway. He was not gentle as they embraced, not this time. There was no need for tenderness or care or love. There was only _need_ and the terrible want that had been haunting him with this Curse. As her hands gripped his shoulders he forcefully took dominance of their kiss, nipping her lips possessively as she gasped against him.

With no false pretense he pushed the robe off her shoulders, sliding his hands along the smooth planes of her slender back as he pulled her more closely against him. The press of her curves against him lit an ache that was at once all too familiar, yet strange in its intensity, and he wanted more; more touch, more skin, more _Hawke_. But she caught the thin fabric before it fell away, and drew back from him with a coy smile.

He glared at her openly as he moved to kiss her again, determined to make things go his way in this encounter but froze when he felt her suddenly wandering hand move lower. Taking advantage of his pause she pushed him back with her free hand, guiding him to bump unceremoniously into a desk.

As the furniture shook, she started working at the fastens of his shirt, nimbly undoing them, unlocking the barrier between her and his skin. Fenris inhaled sharply as she leaned in and kissed him again. Spurred by his anger he wanted to pull away from her, to reinstate himself but her lips were languid as she kissed him slowly, deeply, before moving to his neck, sending shivers of pleasure rippling through his quickly scattering thoughts, reminding him that she knew far more about this kind of thing than he. Sluggishly he wound his fingers into her thick hair, enjoying the silky tickle as she continued her ministrations, drugging him into compliance.

Finally she pulled the last of the fastens free and pushed the offending garment away from him, boldly exploring his exposed skin, sliding her hands over a hard chest, a chiseled stomach, raw lyrium. He hissed sharply at the tinge of remembered pains, trying to flex away from her. She moaned delightedly as his muscles tightened at her audacious touch, and the sound ignited something deep within the recesses of his instincts and passion shifted into something primitive, more commanding, more controlling.

Wandering hands weren't satisfied however, and as they hit the band of his too tight trousers they hurriedly set to work undoing buttons. She was quick, his self restraint fraying button by button, and he was unable stop the soft wine that escaped him when she brushed against his straining want. Soft tendrils of silky hair slid through his fingers as she pulled back to look at him and her smile widened devilishly.

She knew she had the upper hand. Knew she always would.

Mesmerized he watched her as dark eyes held his captive, gleaming through lightly tussled hair, and another button came loose.

Breathing deeply he tried to regain some semblance of control as she continued her exploration. He didn't know what to do with his hands, didn't know how to react to this situation so he gripped the edges of the desk, feeling the hard wood in sharp contrast to the memory of her soft hair, her supple skin.

The fourth button undone and he followed the path of her tongue as it swept across kiss bruised lips leaving them wet and inviting. She was watching him expectantly, fire banking in her hungry eyes, but he didn't know what she wanted him to do, didn't know what he wanted to do, couldn't hold on to a thought long enough to care. All he knew was that he _wanted_ _her_. Desperately. She was too beautiful, too wonderful, too…

"Hawke…" he began to moan softly, but his soft endearment became a sharp hiss as the last button was released and the young woman slipped her hungry fingers around him, taking his entire existence in hand.

Fire shot through him, all encompassing as his head fell back and he gasped, gripping the table as his hips pitched in an uncontrollable jerk. It was an intense sensation, so far from the pain he'd known, so far beyond anything he'd ever imagined. Her hands left him breathless and struggling for some semblance of control.

But he couldn't; couldn't keep in his sharp gasps as he spiraled down into the pleasure she offered. It was overwhelming, intense, the most wonderful thing he'd experienced in his entire life. And suddenly things made sense.

It was good to give into her.

He'd made the right choice.

He could have this pleasure, could give her this pleasure. If he just stayed with her. If he just let her use him. This was the only thing that mattered. _She_ was the only thing that mattered.

But…

He needed to tell her, needed her to know, needed to see something beyond the dominant hunger that consumed her eyes. He sucked in a harsh breath as her hands moved over him and gritted his teeth against the pleasure, closing his eyes against the devastation. Needing to see her, to tell her, he forced himself to look back to her.

But Hawke wasn't there.

He wasn't in her room.

And he was completely dressed.

Sitting up quickly, the plush couch shifting with him, as he took in desperate gasps that did nothing to quench his shocked lungs, as he tried to figure out what was happening, where Hawke had gone, and why he was dressed. And then, colder than the shock of an early spring river, it hit him.

With a pained groan he ran his hands over his face, light sweat chilling with the realization.

Another dream.

This Curse had indeed damned him.

* * *

><p><strong>.oo:OO:oo.<strong>

* * *

><p>Hours later, unable to cope with his desire and the fact that she was just two doors away, he made his decision. Slipping from the guest room window as silent as a shadow he raced off into the night, hoping that a few days away from everything – and Hawke - would help calm his frayed control.<p>

"Dwarf!"

Varric woke with a start, reaching for Bianca, cocking the bolt and ready to fire, expertly locking onto the intruder just visible in the dark suite.

But he didn't pull the trigger.

Fenris was lucky he was so damn recognizable; anyone else besides the white haired lanky elf would've had a bolt between the eyes without a second thought. Lowering his weapon with a snort, Varric glared at the elf, stark hair gleaming in the low light of an almost deceased fire.

And then he noticed. The bags under red rimmed eyes, lips set into a deep scowl and a back as tight as a bow string. It was usual for Fenris to be tense, but Varric had never seen him like this before. The elf was completely strung out. "Andraste's Tits, Elf! What's happened to you?" the dwarf exclaimed. What the hell could happen over just two weeks to leave a man so ragged?

"It's time, Varric." Was all he said, but it was enough for the dwarf to realize the desperation behind those wild eyes.

"Right," he said quietly. Pausing a moment he tried to decide if bringing up the next question was wise with the elf looking so…feral. "Does Hawke know?" he asked finally.

A white head shook in the shadows, and steely eyes gleamed out at him. "She cannot. Hawke and her household will be Danarius's first target if he knows of any contact between us. I can't be with her." The elf paused, before continuing much more quietly. "At least not now." Varric raised an eyebrow at the softness in the elf's voice, and his particular choice of words. Wasn't often the stoic warrior let much on… "This is my fight; I'm not going to force her to risk those she cares for because of my past."

Varric eyed the shadowed man for a moment, before heaving a despairing sigh. For all his knowledge and skill, the elf was a complete idiot. He didn't understand a damn thing about women. He was already risking the one Hawke cared for most; he was just too blind to realize it.

And that blindness was going to piss Hawke off even more once she found out.

Of all the people in Kirkwall Varric did not want to piss off, Hawke was at the top of the list, and as the dwarf drew out the little rusted key from a bedside drawer he knew he was going to regret helping the crazy elf.

The dwarf grumbled a bit before throwing the key into the shadows. "Go towards the Bazzar and take the alley on your right. You'll find a shack that looks robbed. It's not, the lock's the best there is. The people are dark and the food will be shit, but no one will find you there."Varric watched as the elf nodded and turned away back into the darkness, and as silent as a shadow Fenris was gone. "And don't forget. 3 days. That's all!" he called after him, hoping the elf would honor their agreement, and praying he'd survive the next 3 days with a very angry Hawke.

* * *

><p>Oh no! Fenris has everything wrong! Again!...will he ever overcome his trust issues? will he overcome this Curse!<p>

Tune in next time to read: Insidious.


	9. Hide

**Chapter 9**

**Hide**

"You sure this is what you want?" Varric asked knowingly, shrewdly eyeing the elf before him. "Doesn't seem like you've been enjoying yourself."

Angry eyes glared down at him, flashing unnervingly. "We've had this discussion before, dwarf."

Varric shrugged. "Sometimes things change."

"Indeed." Fenris said as Ander's light chuckle echoed over to them from the table. Green eyes narrowed darkly. "I think it would be best if I just stayed away."

Nodding reluctantly Varric handed him the key with a regretful sigh.

He knew what the elf had told him was true; he wanted to protect Hawke. Fenris had opened up enough for the dwarf to realize his twisted former master would target anyone he'd been close to these past years; it was crucial that Danarius never learned of his connections. So it had always been Fenris's plan to disappear at the first hint of the magister. To keep Hawke safe.

Fenris had been in hiding for a little more than three weeks, moving from safe house to safe house, keeping out of sight and hidden from his hunters. But Varric had heard no word of Hadriana, had heard no word of any Tevinters, and everyday took its toll on Hawke. The dwarf had had more problems keeping the elf hidden from a prying Hawke than he had from sneaking magisters. It was clear to Varric that she missed the man terribly- she certainly asked about him enough - it just wasn't clear to Fenris. As far as the dwarf was concerned the well- intended warrior was doing more harm than good. But Fenris refused to abandon his plans. Safety, he'd said, was what mattered, and Varric had known he hadn't just meant his own.

The elf was almost as stubborn as Hawke. Almost. "Head to the Docks." Varric said. "In a warehouse to the east there's a small side room. It's all you'll have, but there will be enough food and water for the next few days."

Taking the key, Fenris gave a short nod and turned to leave, but stopped just before he left the dwarf's little sleeping niche. "Is she…" he whispered tightly, "Is she happy?"

Surprised, Varric eyed the tense back of the elf. _Was he actually asking…?_ "Yeah." He replied softly. Fenris nodded jerkily and began to move away, "But elf," he called, stopping him again, "Sometimes, things change."

Offering a small smile as the distressed warrior looked back over his shoulder at him, Varric hoped Fenris would get it through his thick skull, hoped he would abandon this foolish hiding and cure Hawke's foul mood. But the bleakness in those dark green eyes didn't hold much room for hope, and as Fenris turned away and hurriedly slipped out of the suit, Varric shook his head, wondering how he'd ended up with such fool headed friends.

* * *

><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

* * *

><p>Anders didn't see the silent elf steal out of the suit. Merril hadn't realized he'd been here at all. Isabella didn't notice how he never looked back. But Hawke did.<p>

She watched him slink out from over the rim of her mug as she took another not-so-delicate swig. The whiskey was warm, bitter and cheap, but the young woman couldn't bring herself to care. Because everything tasted bitter at that moment.

Because Fenris had been with another woman.

That was the reason. It had to be.

The reason he'd turned down her offer, the reason he'd left her estate in the dead of night, and the reason he'd been suspiciously absent. She'd worried herself haggard over whether Danarius had come for him, over whether he was dead or in chains somewhere. She'd searched for him, endlessly wondering. But all of her care and worry had been worthless.

He'd been safe enough, hidden in the arms of some mystery woman he was Cursed to love.

She felt the sharp pang of frustration, of sadness, of complete and total futility twist her stomach - or was that her heart?

Willing her mind to blank out the rising hurt, the welling panic she downed her drink. She didn't know which was worse, the pain of his rejection, or the knowledge that he'd already been with another and never bothered to tell her.

"Are you alright?" asked Anders quietly as she felt his arm slip around her and give her a gentle squeeze. She knew he was trying to be kind, trying to cheer her up just like he had the entirety of the past few weeks. He really was a kind man. Just not the one she wanted. She spared him a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes, not caring enough to push him away.

At the moment she couldn't bring herself to care about much.

* * *

><p><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>

* * *

><p>It was a tight little room, cramped and cold and dusty. Making sure the plain door was shut tight and locked behind him, Fenris took his sword from his back and set it against the wall. Varric had again been thorough; water set in clay containers, bread and cheese wrapped beside it against one wall, and a blanket against the other.<p>

It had everything he needed to survive; everything he would need for the next three days.

But it didn't have Hawke. He sighed as he leaned against a wall and slid down to sit in the dust. He knew that the coming days would be hell, full of dreams, full of worry, just like the last few weeks.

It was a shame that safe houses kept you hidden from hunting Magisters, but not from your own thoughts. These past couple weeks had been torture.

He'd been plagued by dreams. Thankfully none had been quite as...potent as the one the night of her offer. But they were no less aggressive. Dream Hawke was not the same woman he'd come to know over the years. She was just as bold, just as beautiful as the real Hawke, but her affection hinted at malicious intent, the intent to keep him there, to drive him crazy if he ever left her side. His dreams were full of sadistically seductive nights spent with her, calls for him to return. It was terrible, an irresistible combatant to his plans.

But no so bad as his worry.

He'd worried - of course he had. He'd worried about Danarius, about Hadraina, but most of all he'd worried about Hawke. Fears and memories of a bloody Seheron night had plagued him, making him agitated and tense. He'd been haunted by insecurities in his tight little hiding places, doubts regarding the inevitable encounter with his former tormenter. It was foolish of him to think Hadriana did not already know of his connection to the young woman; his plans to keep Hawke safe by staying away had started to seem obsolete. It was unbearable to think that his presence could bring Hawke tragedy, but even worse was the idea that Hadriana could be launching an attack while he hid like a coward in the slums. Fenris would never forget the pain that twisted woman had caused him, would never forget the smug smirk on her ugly face when she "practiced" her wicked magic on him, and he would never forgive himself if he let Hadriana get to Hawke.

He wanted to know what was happening. He wanted to know what to do.

He wanted to go back to Hawke.

But it seemed as though she did not want him back. Apparently she was happy enough with her mages.

It'd been foolish, he knew, but as he'd climbed the dirty stairs to Varric's suit earlier that night, he'd hoped to find things just the way they'd been 3 weeks ago. It would be the first time he'd seen Hawke since the night of her offer and all he'd wanted was a warm fire, tolerable company, and a laughing Hawke. He'd wanted to see her smile again, to see her fiery eyes spark with joy, and forget about the Curse, about over-stepped boundaries and hunting magisters.

But the fire hadn't been comforting, full of dancing shadows and lashing tongues of heat. And everyone was hushed. There'd been no storytelling, no laughter; just a quiet and angry Hawke, full of viscous indifference. The woman had shot barely more than a callous glance his way before turning her regard back to the man beside her; back to Anders.

Fenris didn't know what made him angrier; the fact that Hawke was angry at _him_ for not giving into her selfish offer and apparently holding a grudge, or the harsh reminder of just who held her true affections.

He felt a fool for all his wasted time spent worrying over her, all of his time spent waiting to see her. Fenris knew he shouldn't have expected differently; knew that Hawke had made her decision despite a few shared kisses. But seeing them together, watching Anders slip his arm possessively around her shoulders, being so blatantly reminded of her choice, still set his blood boiling.

Another side effect of the curse.

Unconsciously he clenched his fist, feeling the harsh prick of his sharp gauntlets against lyrium embroidered skin.

It was understandable that Hawke would be with someone – someone other than him, he secretly admitted. She was a beautiful woman, kind and smart and viscously brave. What man wouldn't want her?

But Fenris did not think it was wise to have chosen _Anders_. He didn't trust the mage. Hawke did not see the darkness lurking behind those eyes, did not see the growing emptiness, the slipping control. But Fenris did. And he didn't want Hawke anywhere near the man the moment she finally learned his true colors.

Unfortunately, Fenris didn't think she would listen to him. Not that she ever did, but especially not now. It was a hidden side to her, an aspect of her personality he'd never been privy to, but it seemed as though she was capable of holding infuriating grudges. He'd hoped differently. Hoped that she'd forgiven him for scorning her offer, hoped that she'd realized that some boundaries shouldn't be crossed. But he'd been wrong to hope, just like with so many other things regarding the young woman.

With barely contained frustration he let his head fall against the wall as his scowl deepened.

He was frustrated with her, but even though the thought that she would want to use him so…basely was still deeply unsettling, no matter how angry he was with her he couldn't deny his concern. And he hadn't been able deny the tightening of his heart as her voice had drifted out of the suit earlier.

He missed her, more than he ever wanted to admit.

He wanted to go back to her.

But he was afraid. Afraid that if he went back he would lead Hadriana right to her. Afraid that the next time he saw her it would be the same, that her eyes would be shadowed with the same cold anger, that she would not speak to him; that she would never forgive him.

But if he were honest with himself what he feared most of all was that if he went back he wouldn't be able to resist her a second time.

It was no wonder Hawke had chosen Anders, he was a complete coward. He wasn't even hiding from Hadriana anymore.

He was hiding from himself.

* * *

><p><p>

**.oO:OO:Oo.**

* * *

><p>"Hush," she said softly, trying to keep the bite out of her tone, but failing miserably.<p>

Anders quieted, moving to hold her hands firmly in his. "Hawke," he implored gently, "What's wrong?" Shaking her head she tried to pull her hands away from him, but he held on. Belatedly she wondered if this was what Fenris had felt like in a courtyard on a rainy day what seemed a century ago. It was a horrible feeling. She started to hate herself just a bit more. "Listen, Hawke. I love you; I would never lie about that." She didn't doubt him, but she didn't want him either. "I just want the little time we have together to be spent happy. So please, tell me what's wrong?" The mage brushed a bit of hair back behind her ear, smiling easily.

She knew these light touches were to offer comfort, knew his smile was meant to be reassuring. But she didn't want comfort, and she didn't want reassurance. She wanted green eyes and white hair and shy silent support. Quickly she pushed his hands away, giving herself the distance she needed. "It's nothing," she lied sharply. "Good night, Anders." And with that she walked away, leaving the man in the foyer next to the blazing fire that did nothing to warm her words.

Anders sighed and shook his head as he watched her climb the stairs. Hawke had been far too grim these past few weeks. He hadn't seen her often, but when he had there'd been an unknowable darkness behind her warm eyes. Smiles did not come easily to the young woman anymore, laughter was even scarcer.

But she'd been doing better, much better, these past days, spending more time with friends, taking more jobs - until tonight. Anders didn't understand why she was so sorrowful, the sudden downhill slide.

"I wouldn't worry too much, My Lord." Despite himself, Anders jumped. The woman had nearly scared the fade right out of him! And considering he had a direct connection to it living within him, that was a difficult feat!

Leandra stood unnoticed, regal if a bit vacant eyed, just a few feet away, fiddling with things on one of the desks, moving the quill, the ink, the paper, then putting them back in place, as though she couldn't decide, as though she couldn't remember what to do with them. She'd never truly recovered from the loss of so much of her family. It was a wound even Anders couldn't heal, and even though Hawke had tried, it had never shut. The woman was still alive and still cared for her remaining daughter deeply, but she'd been left vacant, hollowed with an emptiness that would never be filled. Anders could see it as she turned her smile on him. "She'll be over it soon enough."

He was quiet for a moment. The woman often didn't hear what was said, but perhaps she saw more than he gave her credit for. "Over what?" he asked finally.

The thin woman laughed, and Anders could hear the sweetness in the sound, the tinkling hint of the shallow vibrancy Hawke had kept alive. "Why, her broken heart, of course!" With a frown Anders went silent. "That's all this is. Though, I never imagined to see my dear Marian sick with it; I've never seen her get attached to any man." She seemed to think a moment, eyeing the upstairs distantly, sadly, before coming to herself again. "But she must forget this one." she said with conviction. "Can you imagine what the neighbors would think of that elf? Bad enough to openly be with a knife ear, but those disgusting tattoos? Garish." she tsked disapprovingly, but Anders barely heard it; his thoughts crashing to a halt. Blind to his sudden anger she lightened again, moving away towards the stairs, leaving him alone in the foyer. "No worries," she said, making little brushes of her hand as if to shoo away the stigma of elf. "She'll be over it soon enough."

With narrowed eyes Anders looked up to that second level, looked up to where he knew Hawke's room was. Suddenly he had reason for suspicion. "Indeed," the mage said quietly.

* * *

><strong><strong>.oO:OO:Oo.<strong>**

* * *

><p><p>

Her room was quiet, peaceful, and comfortably warm; in sharp contrast to what Hawke felt inside. Closing the door sharply, she leaned against it with a deep breath.

Anders was a good man, smart and brave and kind. But he couldn't take a hint.

She'd told him numerous times these past days- or tried to - that she didn't want to take the leap he was asking of her. Not now, at least. She supposed something could grow between them eventually; they were close already, and there'd always been something unspoken about their relationship, something that hinted of things to come. But at this exact moment, she didn't want to hear the unspoken, she wanted it to remain silent and unrecognized.

She wanted Fenris.

She snorted. Wasted want. That's all her heart ache was, all it'd ever been.

After all, Fenris was gone, back to where he'd been these past few weeks, back into the arms of his mystery lover. The thought of it set a festering fire in her heart, constricting and painful, as she roughly shoved away from the door. She'd thought that they'd grown close these past years, that he trusted her enough to confide in her. Apparently falling in love was not something on the list of things he shared, however.

Hadn't he thought she should know? Didn't he realize that if she'd known she never would have entertained the idea of being with him? She never would have kissed him?

She never would have given her heart to him...

But he hadn't told her, and her heart didn't feel like it belonged to her anymore, didn't feel like it was beating at all. He was either too blind - too stupid - to notice her growing affection or he just didn't care at all. Both hurt, both lit a dangerous anger and a swelling sadness that threatened to drown her.

Perhaps it was better to be with Anders? To just forget about the blind stupid elf that didn't care about her. Things weren't ever complicated with the mage. Despite having the Spirit of Justice locked inside him, his problems were much less deeply rooted than Fenris's. He had no lurking demons - just spirits - no hunting magisters chasing him; no reservations. He could be happy. And Hawke wanted to share that happiness...just not tonight.

Tonight she wanted to curl into bed. She didn't want to think about Anders. She didn't want to think about Fenris. She didn't want to think at all.

_Tomarrow,_ she vowed fiercely as she pulled her shirt off roughly, tossing it away in agitation. _Tomarrow, when you wake up, you'll be fine. You'll get a good night's sleep. You'll take that job for Avaline. You'll not think of Fenris at all!_

With that determination, she climbed into bed, hoping that tomarrow _would_ be better. That tomarrow would have nothing to do with sympathetic mages or lyrium branded elves. That tomarrow she would be happy.

* * *

><p>Will Fenris realize Hawke loves him? Will Hawke realize Fenris loves her?<p>

...Will Fenris and Hawke ever not be stupid in this story?

Tune in next time to read:**...And Seek**

* * *

><p><strong>sorry for the redundant update. i had written this last bit but for some reason i hadn't saved it in the chapter? anyways...SORRY!<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>MistressofMagic7: CONGRATULATIONS! YOU WERE MY 100th REVIEWER! if you want, i will dedicate a special side chapter if you choose a theme. just leave a message or review telling me one central theme for a da2 story and i'll write it up!:)<strong>

**Kiersten:**...is this aurora? if not...you and i have the same name! lol! freaked me out when i saw your review. I was shocked! i've never met anyone with the same name before!

**AIK2**: thank you for all of your reviews. I'm so happy you like my story so much. and thanks for your concern. i'm sorry you've had to go through similar pain.

**Tasha and GoddessTiera**: thank you. i'm sorry.

**MaryGolden**: I'm glad you noticed. yes. the curse will continue to develope. and not in an always good way.

and **thank you** to: **, DamonLover01, Cruellae, iRavenHearti, jiks27**, and t**heifkingbakura1**


	10. And Seek

**Chapter 10**

**And Seek.**

The pirate had watched the woman closely for the past few weeks, picking up on her friend's foul mood when it'd first started and watching it deteriorate ever since. Even at her worst moments Hawke was generally lighthearted, open. But recently she'd been suspiciously glum, and – true to Isabella's suspicions – the moment Fenris had slunk into the suite a few nights ago, Hawke had capsized, and by now her poor friend was assuredly drowning in heartache – Hawke was foolish like that.

It was horrendously obvious to the observant Riviani that even if he hadn't realized it himself, Fenris was in love with the woman. Secretly she'd been rooting for him from the beginning – if she couldn't have him at least she might be able to weasel some saucy details out of Hawke. But if he kept this up there would only ever be fighting, never fucking. It was an outcome she did not want, and Isabella always got what she wanted; she always had a plan to get it.

And _this_ plan was going to be fun.

With all her characteristic boldness and lack of tact Isabela stood and reached across the table for her drink, leaning to put her buxom attributes directly in Fenris's line of sight. True to his nature the stuffy elf spared her ego no mercy in his quick and annoyed retreat. Sighing as she plopped back into her seat the pirate looked belatedly at the only man alive immune to her many charms. "Well, it's obviously not me." She said with a pout. She'd known of course, but sometimes miracles happened.

"What?" Fenris's glare swung on the pirate in full force. He was annoyed, forced to wait in this small room for Varric, forced to wait for another key to another cramped hiding place where he could sit and think about Hawke, and worry about Hawke, and want for Hawke. Fenris had no patience for Isabela and her games; he was in an incredibly foul mood.

"I doubt it would be me, either." Merril spoke up quietly. "He's never really liked me much. But then, I've never noticed if Fenris likes anyone. Except Hawke, of course. But everyone likes her, so I don't know if that counts."

The warmth was suddenly sucked out of the room by the force Fenris's frosty regard. "What are you saying, witch?" he hissed quietly.

Isabela hummed richly, watching the fire behind those green eyes. This would be easy. "Kitten, why don't you go get us some more drinks."

"But we don't need more ye-…" understanding dawned on the elf's delicate features. "Right. More drinks," she agreed, turning a knowing smile on Fenris before leaving the room in a rush of giggles, abandoning him to a hungry pirate with no place to hide.

"What are you playing at?" he asked, suspicious eyes narrowing dangerously. He did not trust this woman.

Isabela smiled coyly, her full lips twisting up into a devilish smirk as her reply froze his heart. "I know about the Curse you're under, Fenris."

He was quiet for a moment, frozen in disbelief. Even though he was angry, even though he had doubts of her intent, he'd never suspected Hawke would betray his trust. Especially not to Isabella. The woman was more than just a pirate queen; she was a queen of Gossip! This damned Curse was not something he wanted people knowing about, hadn't Hawke understood that?

Apparently his rising anger was thinly veiled, because Isabella dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "She was quite drunk when she spilled. She likely doesn't even remember." This was little consolation to the furious elf, and Isabela's eyes twinkled mischievously as she watched him fume. "It must be terrible." She said with mock empathy, knowing her next breathy words would burn as much as any betrayal. "Loving a woman while she loves another? Knowing that instead of you in her bed, it's Anders?"

"I don't have to listen to this." Fenris said furiously as he stood, tension causing his fists to clench sparodically. Eager to get away from Isabela's sharp tongue, from the constant reminder of Hawke's choice he moved for the door, not caring if Varric was getting another key, not caring about hiding any longer.

"You know she's only with_ him_ because she thinks_ you're_ Cursed for another…" the pirate said nonchalantly, watching his tense back closely as he froze, hand inches away from the handle.

Despite himself, Fenris couldn't leave in that moment, couldn't walk out on Isabela's twisted sport, and he couldn't stop the small flare of hope that set his heart beating faster. He knew it was a lie, knew she was just playing some demented game…But what if she wasn't? Tentatively he looked back at her, waiting for her to continue.

Standing, the woman locked her suddenly hungry eyes on him. "But I know differently." She said walking slowly towards him, hips swaying seductively; the prowl of a huntress. "I know you're bound for Hawke." The pirate continued, coming ever closer, but Fenris found he couldn't turn away, couldn't just open the door and leave. "I know you love her." Putting her full lips to his ear she breathed huskily, "I know you _ache_ for her."

Furiously he shoved her back. "You know nothing," he hissed as he stalked away from the door, away from her, his voice dark with pent up anger and pain.

"What's wrong, elf?" she chuckled knowingly, her hungry eyes lit devilishly. "Can't have the one you want? Don't know how to deal with this lust?" the last word clicked off her tongue with all the dark connotations of a cuss. She came close again, and Fenris could smell the stale alcohol, the putrid scent of too much revelry - so different from the light smell of another. "I could help you with that. I know how to take all your cares away." He didn't understand what this spell was, but he couldn't keep himself from watching her tongue sweep out to wet her full lips. Couldn't stop thinking about Hawke. Couldn't stop wishing this were Hawke. This woman was worse than a desire demon, her words hypnotic. "I could teach you how to show Hawke you want her. I could teach you how to best Anders."

She was poised with barely inches between them, ready to pounce if he showed any signs of weakness, of giving in, her dark eyes full of unveiled intent. Fenris had seen this look before, and if hadn't said yes then, he sure as hell wasn't going to now. He could never imagine himself with Isabela; never want her like he wanted Hawke. The thought of being with this woman was repulsive, terrifying, and yet…

What she'd said had echoed with truth. It was an insecurity that haunted him, that partnered with his powerful fear of touch. He didn't know how to show Hawke he wanted her; he didn't know how to give a woman pleasure. He'd witnessed the act, knew the basic mechanics, but most of what he'd seen had been twisted and evil, a part of that dark game of masters and slaves. Danarius and Hadriana had taken their own pleasure whether the participants were willing or not. Fenris had seen them both in the throes of passion, knew the acts that brought it to them, but he would never liken Hawke to either one of those disgusting monsters. Surely what the young woman wanted was different, something Fenris had never learned of in his life of pain and hatred.

But Anders knew.

Despite his hatred for the mage, the elf wasn't deaf. He'd heard Ander's and Isabela talk, he'd heard the stories. And by all accounts the man was as talented a lover as they came. He was charming, witty, and was able to give what Hawke needed. He was everything Fenris was not, and every male instinct the elf had balked against the man's superiority. The knowledge of them together was so utterly devastating because with it had come the damning realization that he could never fight for her, could never offer what she wanted; he'd never had a chance. Fenris would give anything to be on level ground with the mage, would give anything to be good enough to be with Hawke.

Isabela's offer was suddenly much more tempting.

The warring emotions were clear on his handsome face and as she watched his indecision take hold the pirate smiled. The outcome of this little game didn't matter, either way she got what she wanted. "Just think of Hawke," she breathed softly.

Fenris shivered. That was exactly what he wanted to do at the moment. Months of pent up frustration and want made his resolve weaken, made him need release and Isabela knew it. Ever so slowly he let the tension ease out of his body, let his guard lower.

There was a weakness behind his hesitant eyes, and Isabela was over eager to take advantage of it. Knowing he would never make the first move she reached for his hand, slipping her dexterous fingers through his, brushing his calloused palm.

But with a sharp hiss of breath he jerked his hand out of reach, and the sudden wildness in his dark eyes thrilled her. This man was feral, unpredictable, and utterly exciting. Whether it was what Fenris truly wanted or not, Isabela made up her mind in that moment about how her game was going to end.

Moving with him as he tried to step away, to escape, she swept in, intent on pressing her lips to his, intent on winning. There was a fraction of an inch, a hair's breadth between them, the heat of his sharp, quick breaths caressing her lips. It was luxurious, sensual and Isabela basked in the moment for just a second.

A second too long.

The door to the small room crashed in, the resounding bang rattling it on its rusted hinges. The sound shocked Fenris back to his senses, and quicker than Isabela could follow he jumped away from her.

But the longing pout the pirate sent his way was of no concern to Fenris. The only thing that concerned him was the frantic guardswoman standing in the doorway. "Hawke," she said breathlessly, loose strands of red hair fluttering around her tense face. "Hawke's in trouble!"

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><p><strong>.oo:OO:oo.<strong>

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><p>Varric chuckled deeply, "Is that so, Daisy?" he asked humorously as he walked with her back towards the room he'd left Fenris in. The elf had been adamant not to be left in his suite and the dwarf had to wonder if it was because the hunted warrior was trying to hide his connections, or if he was just afraid of a surprise appearance from Hawke. Either way, the elf was being a fool, and Varric was begging to wonder if it was a trait common of the race. He'd never shared the majority of the world's racism towards Elvhan kind, but recent revelations of the two elves he knew well were making him wonder just how rampant blind naiveté ran in their blood.<p>

"O yes! There are sea monsters!" exclaimed Merril, her face lit animatedly. "A sailor told me about them. Like dragons, only long and slippery, and they breath foam, not fire. He lost many of his clan to them, and was a very brave man to have fought off monster of the like, even tamed one. Said he'd let me see his sea serpent if I stopped by his room tonight. Do you think there are sea monsters in the Harbor, Varric?"

The dwarf snorted "I think if there were, it would make a fine story to charm a pretty girl." Sometimes, he worried for the too-innocent elf. "Listen, Daisy…" but whatever warning he'd been about to give died on his lips as a white haired blur flashed past him, speeding for the door. _Was that…the elf?_ Not long after a frazzled Aveline followed down the steps, armor clanking with each driven step.

"Hawke's in trouble. The Forgery," was all she said as she too rushed past them.

"You heard her, Daisy. Let's go get our things."

But the lithe woman didn't follow him. "I don't think we should, Varric. We'll interfere in Isabela's plans."

Varric looked at the elf skeptically. "There are two kinds of people in this world that like to play games, Daisy. Men and pirates that like to meddle in other people's problems. And you can't trust either."

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><p><strong>.oo:OO:oo.<strong>

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><p>Those three words erased every moment of the past 3 weeks, every second of worry, every doubt he'd harbored against her. It was strange but in that moment when cold dread had swept over him it was as if a great uncertainty had been erased, a blindness lifted from his eyes and he'd finally been able to see things clearly. Hawke was important to him, she always had been – and not just because of some twisted Curse - and now that she was in danger he must go to her. It was a single mindedness he had not felt in a very long time, a surety that had been rare throughout his life.<p>

But it was also a dread, a fear that gifted a swift urgency to his steps, a terror that he would not reach her in time. Dread kept his heart beating fast as he sped out of the inn, as he rushed to reach Hawke in time. He hadn't waited for Avaline to explain; he'd only had to be told where to go because he'd known who she was fighting; he understood what Hawke was up against.

He'd been right, and too afraid - too selfish - to return to her side. He should have put his own wants and insecurities aside; he should have been here to support her.

While he'd been hiding in the shadows and the slums for weeks like a sniveling coward, she'd been left vulnerable, unprepared. When he could have been by her side protecting her, he'd left her defenseless.

He'd left her alone to face Hadriana.

Fenris only hoped he wasn't too late.

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><p>Oh no! Hawke's in trouble!<p>

Will Fenris reach her in time? or will he loose the woman he loves to the demons of his past?

tune in next time to read: **Lost**

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><p>Reviewers:<p>

sorry if the last chapter was slow, but you have to have the calm before the storm, and the bit of drama before the romance ;)

**merit: **i am so sorry that you had too loose both of them so quickly. i can't imagine experiencing a loss like that. i hate to say it, but i hope you weren't too close to them, otherwise you are a very strong person for getting through such devastation.


	11. Lost

**Chapter 11**

**Lost**

The rest of the evening was a dream. A nightmare.

One that even Hadriana couldn't inspire.

The cold chill of magic and death was the same in that dark foundry as it had been all those years ago. The battles were furious and desperate, and somewhere between relief that it wasn't Hadriana, and horror at their task, Fenris had lost the Hawke he'd known.

There'd been nothing in her movements that he knew; nothing in those wild screams that was familiar. The only thing he could do was stay close to her side and make sure to compensate for what he knew Hawke couldn't do in her moment of frenzied fear. Spirits rose to greet them in every room as they followed a trail of blood and escalating terror.

There were corpses.

There were portraits.

There were strewn papers and blood.

But worst of all for Fenris was a little letter on the table in the middle of the mad man's study. A small folded note with a fresh wax seal on it. An insignia Fenris had seen too many times in Tevinter on a magister's writing desk while he'd stood silently by.

And suddenly the weight of that moment had become all too real.

When Leandra died in her daughter's arms, Fenris was sure he watched a little of Hawke die too.

Avaline had the decency to give Hawke a moment in her grief before alerting her guardsmen of the incident. It wasn't long after that the cold basement was crawling with armored men, all horrified at the crimes carried out in the heart of their own city.

The order to remove the fallen rang out in that cold room like a hammer in the dead of night, final and hollow. And none of them had argued.

They'd followed the templars and guardsmen as they took the bodies to the gallows; a quiet procession in the cold darkness, silently escorting the combined corpse of several sisters, of several lovers, and several mothers.

Hawke never cried.

The tortured elf had thought he'd seen all the evil that magic could be but her blank eyes set a cold in Fenris's heart that even Danarius had never managed to inspire. And he grew deathly afraid that the Hawke they'd all known had just been left in a dirty basement that was now a tomb.

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><p><strong>.oo:OO:oo.<strong>

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><p>Hawke wasn't seen for days after the incident.<p>

She'd made an appearance at a mass funeral, several families gathered to give respects to fallen loved ones, but besides that she hadn't left her now empty mansion.

Fenris had watched her from afar as she'd made her way back to her dark and closed home. He'd hovered about the place fretfully for days, refusing to go back into hiding. Refusing to leave Hawke, even though he hadn't actually gone to her.

No one had gone to her. Not for lack of trying, but every knock at the door was met with silence, every house call made was answered with the same sad shake of old Bodhan's grief torn face.

Aveline said she needed time.

Varric said she needed time.

Isabella said she needed to get laid.

But Fenris was beginning to think none of them understood.

He knew he didn't. He'd never faced this kind of grief – he couldn't remember his mother, and he'd never cared enough for anyone to be affected by actual loss.

But one memory haunted him as he watched the dark shuddered windows and locked doors day after day. And by the end of the week it convinced him to silently try a window one night, slipping into the shadowed foyer that had once been lit by a warm fire. And it followed him as he silently climbed the stairs to the upper level; chased the shiver that gripped his spine as he walked by Leandra's rooms.

It was the memory of a small human woman trapped in dark tunnels who'd just lost her sister, and a dirt streaked face covered in silent tears.

And though he didn't know if it would work, he thought that perhaps he could give something it seemed the others could not.

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><p><strong>.oo:OO:oo.<strong>

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><p>Hawke sat on her bed staring at the low fire. It was the only thing she bothered to tend to these past days. She was too afraid of seeing her mother's stitched face in the shadows.<p>

It was a surprise to hear the door to her bedchamber open with too loud a creek, echoing in the silent room. But she didn't care enough to stand, didn't care enough to be alarmed. And when a tall elf who hadn't spoken to her in weeks stepped through, she didn't care enough to ask why.

She couldn't bring herself to care about much of anything lately.

Her family – her entire family – was gone now.

And she found that without them, nothing really mattered.

But when she felt the bed dip from the weight of an elf that never sat too close to people her breath caught.

When the feather light touch of bare weathered fingers ghosted across the back of her hand she felt her heart beat for the first time in what felt like ages. Wide eyed she turned to the elf.

Lips set in a grim line, calloused unarmored fingers softly holding her own, bare skin on bare skin for the first time, Fenris's green eyes gazed sadly out at her from behind a curtain of white hair.

Her family – her entire family - was gone, and she was utterly alone.

But only as alone as Fenris had been his entire life.

Her stricken face cracked, and she turned back to the low fire as hot tears finally burned their way down pale cheeks, soft fingers clutching calloused ones that held on with all the desperation of understanding.

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><p><strong>...<strong>

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><p><strong>AN:<strong>

**hello everyone! i'm sorry i've been gone for so long! and sorry that i started this back up with such a depressing chapter! **

**If you'll remember I had had another in it's place, but this one needed to fit into the story somehow because it will be important. I wanted it to go here, so there has been some major revamping. I'm sorry it's so short after so long not updating, but it had to be written, and since this is a major quest in the game, I didn't want to bore you with meaningless retelling.**

**I wrote this to very sad music, so if it's not as sad as i thought blame your lack of tragic atmosphere!**

**F****rom now on the story will continue as it should, and you can expect fairly regular updates.**

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><p><strong>I appreciate how dedicated readers are to this story. apparently some reviewers really missed it, and I am beyond thrilled that you like it so much. <strong>

**special shout outs to MaryGolden, Roseaia, and iRavenHearti who sent me special pms letting me know i was missed. thanks for your support guys!**


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